Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones
by Estora
Summary: All Lorcan wants to do is get through his final year smoothly. Too much to ask for, he supposes, because Rose has bullied Scorpius into dating her, Albus is sulking, Lysander has decided death-defying stunts is the best way to get Rose's attention, James is building barricades, Lily keeps messing around with the space-time continuum, and his journal has become the school bicycle.
1. from the journal of lorcan scamander I

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

Welcome, readers, to the fourth story in the journals & ice cream series. At this point, you probably do need to read the first three in order for the copious background to this story to make sense, but I suppose it can _maybe_ make sense on its own. I'd still recommend reading the others; don't worry, they're all only 11 chapters each! This story is going to be a little different to the others, in that Lorcan won't necessarily be the only person writing in his own journal…

A massive thank-you to my friend and muse **Jenn**, who is lending her gossip talent to the writing of _Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones_! As always, this story is dedicated to you. Couldn't have made it this far without you!

* * *

I am darkness.

I am silent; unobtrusive. Ever constant, ever present, but unnoticed and unseen unless I wish to be seen. I am the wind that rustles your curtains at night; the shadow that moves from the corner of your eye; the dark twin to all that exists. For when the sun sets, it is I who rules the majestic kingdom, casting darkness everywhere. I am the night, in all its wondrous incarnations. I am the shadow you cast when you walk in the sun, for even the brightest light casts the darkest shadow. I am –

_oh my god Lorcan, you are so fucking pretentious._

– a long-suffering brother. It appears I shall have to make a more concentrated effort to hide my poetry and prose from inconsiderate family members who have no concept of privacy and even less appreciation for the higher forms of art.

* * *

**Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones**

one

_from the private journal of Lorcan Scamander_

_September 1, 2023_

Another year.

I have heard others lament as to where the time has gone – a phrase I cannot understand, as it is not as though time is _running out_. It is true that our bodies age, but our perception of the universe and the dimension of time is very limited: who can truly say where time is _going_, or where it has _gone_, when it is in a constant state of flux?

(Allow me to commence the year by being more pretentious than usual. Perhaps it will deter certain persons and twin siblings from stealing my journal with the intention of defacing it.)

I intend to study the concept of time. From a linear, 'objective' point of view, I will have to wait until the end of this school year, though, to truly engage in the field. I find myself needing to perceive the world as others do in order to keep up with their postulations: for instance, Rose Victoria.

I met Rose first this morning on Platform 9 ¾. The extended Weasley family was early for once, and Rose was rereading her new textbooks for the year, already in a state about the N.E.W.T. examinations. Why, I've no idea, because from her own linear perspective the exams are not going to be held for quite a number of months so really she has plenty of time to study.

She was, I hesitate to admit, slightly irritating in her obsession, but from a distance I do actually find it indescribably endearing. She would not be the Rose Victoria Weasley I am so fond of if she did not work herself up into a wretched state of stress about examinations.

The measured time at the moment is late and I'm quite exhausted, but as I have for the past six years, I strive to recount the events of the day with the utmost precision. I am nothing if not dedicated.

The platform was, as always, crowded. As mentioned above, I first met up with the Weasley family; my mother and my father could not stay to see Lysander and myself off on the Hogwarts Express, as they were due to travel to Australia for an expedition. It is of no matter; they shall have fun, and my brother and I are perfectly qualified to see ourselves onto the train.

The Weasley clan is, for lack of a better description, immense; it would be remiss of me to say that Mr Malfoy does _not_ have a point when he grumbles that half of Hogwarts appears to be populated solely by Weasleys. They are very distinctive on the platform. It is something of a joke amongst families: if you get lost on Platform 9 ¾, just locate the redheads and use them as a beacon. I am friends with all of them, or if not friends then friend_ly_. I admit, Lysander and I mostly stayed in their company because of Rose and to use the Weasleys as a homing beacon for Scorpius, who was late this year.

Albus Severus was also with us: he is tanned this year, from the summer – he and his immediate family spent a few weeks in Fiji. Apparently it wasn't quite his "thing", but he enjoyed reading in the hammocks. James Sirius was more adventurous, but he completed his schooling last year after making himself the History of Magic Professor and was not on the platform to see his younger siblings and cousins off. The ones who were present exchanged niceties and general enquiries about the summer break with me.

"Hello, Lorcan," Hugo greeted me in passing.

"Good morning, Hugo Martin. How are you this year?"

"Brilliant! Look at what I have –"

He pulled a Muggle mobile phone out of his pocket.

"It's very remarkable," I said, "but I'm afraid it won't work at Hogwarts, Hugo. Remember the last time you experimented with one?"

He flushed. "I know what I did wrong last time. I'll _make_ it work! You just wait and see."

With luck, Hufflepuff won't pull another vanishing act due to the number of House Points Hugo is bound to lose them this year.

(It would naturally be irresponsible of me to engage in a betting ring about the number of points he'll lose. It would be even more irresponsible of me to bet on him losing up to 1000 points over the school year.)

Hugo is constantly pulling apart and re-inventing Muggle items of varying curious degrees. He has not always been successful (for example, 2021) but they have been rather ingenious, leading to many agreeing he should have been Sorted into Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor.

I myself am not the least bit surprised he was Sorted in Hufflepuff, as the boy is undyingly loyal – a virtue shadowed by his prowess in mixing technology with magic.

"Hugo, try not to blow up the dorm this year," Mrs Granger-Weasley had said to him at Platform 9 ¾. I know this only because I was standing beside Rose, Albus, and Lysander, waiting for Scorpius to arrive. Hugo had the grace to look sheepish.

"I'll try," he said, although I suspect he meant something more along the lines of, "No promises." Judging by Mrs Granger-Weasley's expression, I think she assumed the same.

Last year it was an e-reader, but he didn't lose points then because everyone was worried Hufflepuff would vanish again. From what I know through Scorpius, Muggle technology does not always work especially well in the Malfoy Manor, hence Hugo's dedication to trying to manipulate it to the point where it will for Miss Livia. Sadly, his inventions have a habit of exploding periodically, and now between him and Lily Luna, the school has become something of a minefield.

_Unlike_ Lily, however, Hugo has no mischievous intent.

As I was also beside the Potter clan, I heard Mrs Potter (who insists every time I see her to call her 'Ginny' but will agree to 'Ginevra Molly' if she must) say to her daughter, "Lily, if I get one more letter from the Headmaster telling me you've flunked out of five classes but managed to spell half of the school a second out of synch, you will receive the Howler of your _life_."

Only in her fifth year, but has allegedly already received letter with offers of employment from the Department of Mysteries! Now _there_ is a woman who has an extraordinary grasp of time and its mysteries. It is a shame she is dating David Forster; were I not terrified of Albus's reaction, I should like to ask her out myself, although I admit that my interest in her is not necessarily romantic but rather intellectual. I doubt that would make a difference to Albus.

The Malfoy family was late this morning. Mr Malfoy looked rather weary when I saw him arrive with his family, although logically this can be attributed to the multitasking he accomplishes these days: with one child to be taken to Platform 9 ¾, one child to be taken to Muggle Kent shortly afterwards, and another child screaming and wailing in his wife's arms, it does appear to be a bit of a handful.

"Good morning, Mr Malfoy," I said, just as Mrs Halcombe-Malfoy handed him the screaming toddler.

"Good morning, Lorcan," he said over his young son's screams. "How are you?"

"Edified," I replied, although I doubt he asked me out of interest, merely politeness, as he was now struggling to calm the youngest member of his family and did not seem particularly concerned with my response.

"Dad, you're hopeless. Give him here," Scorpius said, and took the baby who immediately stopped crying once in his brother's arms.

"Oh, well, that's nice," Mr Malfoy said, scowling at his son. "Thank you, Hadrian. I suppose you'll burst into tears again when Scorpius hands you back?"

Hadrian giggled at him. Scorpius handed young Hadrian back to Mrs Halcombe-Malfoy who asked me how I was, although she did confuse me with Lysander. I didn't correct her.

I noticed Hugo and Miss Livia talking off on the side. Miss Livia is often in the papers these days; she looked very fashionable this morning. Samael Glyde hung around them as well, ever eagre for the chance to be involved with the special bond Hugo and Miss Livia have.

With luck I won't be hearing too much of Samael's work this year; he is a little _too_ enamoured by the art of necromancy than is strictly necessary.

The usual rush occurred after that – Mr Weasley, Mrs-Granger Weasley, and Mr and Mrs Potter exchanged greetings with the Malfoys, and Scorpius joined Rose, Albus, Lysander, and myself to board the train.

There is nothing in particular worth noting about the train ride to Hogwarts. Lysander and I conversed with Rose, Albus, and Scorpius, and my brother made a rather dramatic speech about becoming a famous adventurer upon the conclusion of his education at Hogwarts. He has been saying this for years, though, so all it merited were a couple of eye-rolls from our friends. Everything that followed is, again, not especially worth noting. The Sorting was enjoyable and the feast elaborate as always.

The Prefects of Ravenclaw, Yolanda Liu and Nathan Nightingale, took the first years with them first. Albus, Scorpius and I dawdled a bit – no particular reason, other than to avoid the stampede of students. When we arrived at the Ravenclaw door, it was Scorpius who raised his fist to give a single knock.

"When is a hat not a hat?" the eagle doorknob asked.

Scorpius stared at it. "Okay, this door has it out for me. I think it's doing it on purpose."

"Doing what?" I enquired.

"Getting harder every year!"

"That's awfully paranoid of you, Scorpius Hyperion, don't you think?"

Albus shook his head. "No, I'm with Scorpius. It's getting harder on purpose."

"Well, what do you think the answer is?" I asked. Let it never be said I am inconsiderate and am not patient enough to hear other peoples' opinions.

"When is a hat not a hat?" Albus repeated. "I don't know! When it's a condom?"

So crude. Scorpius poked my shoulder. "Come on, let us in."

I am never ceased to be amazed at how the Hat could possibly have Sorted both of those boys into Ravenclaw. Over the past six years they have spent a total of twenty-eight nights sleeping in the corridor because they could not answer the eagle door.

I suspect the door had been taking pity on them, though, because last year I noticed its questions were considerably simplified: "To be or not to be?" was one of them.

Now, if only they'd known their Shakespeare (a downfall for Hogwarts, as the school does not teach his rich works), they'd have known the answer was, "That is the question."

For the past six years, they have always made certain to seek me out before evening or returning to the common room so that I might answer the door for them. I was happy to oblige for the first few years, but it is getting rather ridiculous now.

"When is a hat not a hat?" I said, stepping forwards. "What a fascinating question. I suppose it depends, really, on what angle one would come from. There are many different answers."

"Indeed there are," the door intoned.

"Ah, so this would therefore imply you would accept a number of answers, except, of course, the answer that a hat is not a hat when it is a condom. Hence, you do will not accept any form of literal answer." At least, not from Albus and Scorpius. I wrote above that the door was taking pity on them last year; it appears to have quickly returned to frustration.

I do not condone the door's feelings at all. That would be terrible of me.

"Oh, Merlin," I heard Albus groan behind me, "he's philosophising with the door again."

'Again', he said – it is not as though I do it on _purpose_, of course. That would be simply _petty_ of me.

"When a hat is not a hat, it is something else," I mused. "It could be anything else. Everything I am _saying_ could be or mean anything else. These are just sounds representative of meaning, are they not? What a truly enticing hypothesis. For words are –"

"Lorcan, will you please just get the damn door open?"

I turned to face him. "Whatever is your hurry, Albus Severus?"

He stared at me incredulously. "Aside from the fact that I'd rather not spend another night sleeping in the corridor while you flirt with a door?"

I concede, that only happened once. In my defence, it had been a very engaging discussion. (The fact that Scorpius had been very rude to me earlier that day had no bearing whatsoever on the situation.)

"I know that time doesn't exist in a 'strict progression of cause to effect' or whatever for you, but it does for the rest of us mortals and I need to pee _now_."

Again, so crude. Alas. I sighed and returned to face the door. "_Ceci n'est pas une pipe_," I said.

"Well reasoned," the eagle replied, and the door opened.

"Okay, now _you_ did that on purpose," Scorpius scowled at me. "What do pipes have to do with it?"

"I don't get it," Albus said, defeated, and embarked upon his journey to the lavatory.

That was a few hours ago. I am in bed now, and as I write this I can hear Nathan Nightingale and Rowan Davies snoring; they went to sleep about twenty minutes ago. Albus and Scorpius are still talking. It is a habit of mine to record their conversations:

"Hey, Al?"

"Yeah."

"I'm going out with Rose."

"Mmmph."

"Like, dating."

"M'kay."

"…Did you hear what I said?"

"Nmph."

"I take it that means you're okay with it?"

"Yeah, yeah."

One, two, three…

"Wait, what? _What?_"

Oh, dear, is all I can think. Rose has been making her feelings for Scorpius rather overt these last few weeks over the holidays, although I am surprised by the recent development of them _actually_ dating. (I sincerely hope that awful gossip column doesn't make an appearance this year; Merlin know what it will make of this. Either that, or the teachers find a way to remove the permanent sticking charm from the Hogwarts general notice board.)

I was under the impression, at least for the past year or so, that Scorpius was quite taken by someone else, which leads me beg the question that perhaps Rose merely bullied him into asking her out.

I say Rose has feelings for Scorpius; I actually mean that I suspect she likes the _idea_ of being romantically inclined towards him and does not bear true romantic feelings, if only due to the fact that Mr Weasley (who, like his sister, insists I call him by his first name, but will also grudgingly settle for 'Ronald Bilius') tells her every summer break that he'll never forgive her if she marries a Pureblood. I think she just wants to give her father a panic attack.

There is an unstated 'group' in our year: Lysander-Rose-Albus-Scorpius-Lorcan. Lysander and I, however, know perfectly well that we are the outliers, the two on the fringe: the group of five is more accurately described as a group of three plus two.

It does not cause me any undue angst, as I find myself in possession of the finest friends regardless. Lysander, I think, is more disappointed, but he has his own camaraderie with other Gryffindors.

Writing of Lysander, I fear he will not take the news of Rose and Scorpius with much enthusiasm, but really, it is his own fault for not asking her out first.

At the moment, Albus is pretending everything is fine and Scorpius is awkwardly reassuring him that nothing will be different and he promises that it won't be weird, even though Rose is Albus's cousin. I suspect that is indeed one of Albus's concerns – that he'll be excluded, and the group of three (plus two) will become a group of two plus one (plus two).

He needn't worry, though – I doubt Scorpius's and Rose's relationship will last for much longer than a month, and when (not if, _when_) they break up, their friendship will come out unharmed. If that is _not_ what is bothering him, though, I shall not do him the disservice of speculating about his feelings in a journal that my brother seems to be able to find and read on whim, no matter what pains I go to in order to hide it.

Let me merely state that I think I know what it is that is really bothering him, but am certainly above placing bets with Lily Luna. Because that would be vastly irresponsible of me.

As for me… I cannot help but feel somewhat at a loss myself. If Scorpius does not have romantic feelings for Rose, I see no reason for him to pretend he does.

My friends frequently confuse me, even now. Lily is the only one who makes sense around here when she's not almost getting herself expelled.

I shall now retire. With luck, I will make my way through my final year with limited hassle.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_Hello again, Hogwarts,_

_That's right, I'm back – your one and only guide into the scandalous lives of Hogwarts' elite. And what a crop we have this year!_

_At the risk of boring you newbies, the old hands may be interested to know that our favourite little Ravenclaw soap opera just took an intriguingly heterosexual turn. But don't get your money back from bookies just yet – something tells me that the best is yet to come. And by "best" I of course mean the opposite!_

_In other news, here's a shout-out to our favourite miss goody-two-shoes in Slytherin: watch your back, honey. We haven't forgotten last year, and I know EXACTLY what you did last summer. And sweetheart, I'm so very, very bad at keeping secrets._

_And who am I? Well, that's one secret I'll never tell… and H? No matter how promising a candidate that lonely writer boy looks, I can assure you his latent sociopathic tendencies have got NOTHING on mine._

_You know you love me,_

_xoxo GossipGhost_


	2. from the journal of lorcan scamander II

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones**

two

_from the not-so-private journal of Lorcan Scamander, continued_

_Entry by Lysander Scamander_

_September 5, 2023_

You know, Lorcan, I've noticed you've become progressively _ruder_ over the years. Also, I'm stealing and defacing your pretentious diary. Just in case I hadn't made it clear already. At first I was just going to draw some cocks on a few of the pages but then I read your vicious gossip about me. If I didn't know better, you twat, I'd say _you_ were GossipGhost! You're certainly bitchy enough. How come you don't give Score and Al the "disservice of speculating about their feelings" and you don't extend the same courtesy to me? Arse. Also, you suck at hiding your diary.

And I'll have you know that I did too ask Rose out first. Silently. From a distance.

But seriously, her and _Scorpius?_ What the hell? Like, was he even an _option_ for her? If there's one thing I agree with you on, it's that I can't think of any reason for Scorpius to pretend he's got the hots for Rose. Other than denial, of course. Guess he'd rather face Mr Weasley's wrath than his own sexuality crisis.

Anyway. Scorpius sat at the Gryffindor table this morning to be lovey-dovey with Rose. Absolutely sickening. Although, to be fair, he didn't look half as engaged as she did. You didn't notice because you were too busy reading a book that probably weighs more than Hagrid, but Al sure as hell noticed and sulked up a storm. He hasn't said anything yet, but it'll be funny when he explodes at Rose and Score. I've put in 10 Galleons for this time next month.

You know, this is actually kind of cathartic. Is this why you keep a journal? To talk about people behind their backs for fun? Maybe you _are_ GossipGhost.

I was with Hugo yesterday when Professor Longbottom confiscated his mobile phone. Hugo looked really downbeat but at least this way we don't have to worry about one of the wings almost collapsing.

"Hugo," Professor Longbottom said, stopping us in the hallway, "I know you brought Muggle technology with you."

Hugo's not a good liar. Poor kid, he's got a rubbish poker face. He looked as guilty as a Slytherin around a Sneakoscope.

(By the by, did you know that Professor Longbottom and Mum used to _date_? After the War! They dated! I found out by accident this morning when I accidentally-on-purpose read Al's letter from his mum over his shoulder. There are just _so many things wrong with that._)

Back on track. Hugo caved in like a second and miserably handed over the phone to Professor Longbottom. Longbottom raised his eyebrows. "Thank you, Hugo. You can have this back at the end of the term. I won't deduct points from you, because you honest with me."

More's the pity, but there'll be plenty of chances this year for him to lose points. I've got 30 Galleons on him losing up 500 points. I think you're being a bit ambitious with your 1000 – no-one's going to risk the 'Puffs disappearing again. He'll have to divert his energies now, though. I think I overhead him talking to that creepy Glyde kid that he's going on a quest to discover GossipGhost's identity, so Hugo will have a much less destructive hobby this year. Good luck to him, I say – people have been trying to find GG's identity for _years_. Popular candidates are Moaning Myrtle and Peeves, but personally I don't reckon it's a ghost at all. Watch out or I'll point Hugo in your direction.

Anyway. Rose barely looked at me today. We normally talk all the time because out of group of _five, _Lorcan, we're the only two actually _in_ Gryffindor. But nope, this time good ol' Malfoy joined us in the Common Room today and she was too busy sucking his face off to say hi to me. Just – ew. So much ew.

So, now that the first week of classes are over (holy _shit_ Transfiguration is hard!) I'm going to throw myself off the Astronomy Tower and see if I can Accio my broomstick to me before I hit the ground. I've bet Terrence 20 Galleons that I can do it. Essays? What essays?

Don't go being a pretentious twat now, Lorcan. And yes, that is a cock on the opposite page. What are you going to do about it?

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_- It seems Little H has run out of toys to play with. Can we get a Squib in here to distract him, before he blows us all up with boredom?_

_- The potions classroom is well used to meltdowns, explosions and fireworks… but usually they're confined to the cauldrons! Does today's altercation have anything to do with a certain clandestine greenhouse assignation? One thing's for sure, Gryffindors know how to bring the drama!_

_- Spotted: One lonely little diary, lurking in a bathroom. __Déjà vu__? Or just carelessness?_

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_September 9, 2023_

I should be outraged for several reasons, but at the moment I am most concerned about your artistic representation of a phallus. I sincerely hope you did not use yourself as a reference, Lysander, because if you did then I highly suggest you take yourself to the Hospital Wing immediately for a check-up.

I was unaware Professor Longbottom confiscated Hugo's phone. It is probably for the best, as I would like to go at least one year without a section of the school almost collapsing. Lily will be disappointed; she often used the destructive aftermath of Hugo's failed experiments and inventions as a cover for her own troublemaking.

I _was_ aware that Professor Longbottom and our mother used to date after the War. Pictures of her and our Deputy Headmaster in their youth are in the family photo album. Perhaps if my esteemed brother were less focused on death-defying stunts and more aware of his family, he would have known this many years ago. Perhaps he can use some of his detention hours this coming week to reflect on his life choices.

Breakfast was terribly entertaining this morning. Lysander believes I do not pay attention, but he is quite incorrect in this assumption. Just because I happened to spend most of the morning reading a book that is "heavier than Hagrid" (which it is not; I do have the common sense to cast a lightening charm on the book) does not mean I do not know what is going on around me.

I digress.

This morning at breakfast, Lysander almost lost his early-October bet for Albus' "explosion". It is indeed true that Albus has been in a foul mood for the last week, responding to other people in the form of snaps and grunts and grumbles. He lost his temper with Lily yesterday when she asked if it was "his time of the month".

Scorpius finally noticed as well. "What's your problem, Albus?" he asked after Albus scowled at him for the fourth time this morning.

"Nothing," he lied moodily. Scorpius, and the rest of the table, was unconvinced.

"If nothing is wrong, why do you look so constipated?"

Classy, as always.

Albus fumed silently for a moment, then finally snapped, "Maybe – maybe I'm _not_ okay with you dating my cousin."

(The sudden air of silence along the table went unnoticed by both of them.)

Scorpius looked quite startled. "I'm not dating Hugo," he replied. Albus didn't laugh.

"Rose!"

"Why?"

Albus stabbed a tomato with his fork. "It's just – I'm her cousin. You know? It's – it's weird. Being around you two. How would you feel if I was snogging Livia?"

"Content in the knowledge that my father and Hugo would kill you first."

"That's not what I –"

They were interrupted by James Sirius, who sometimes graces the House tables with his presence. "Awww," he said, slinging an arm around his brother and cutting through the tense atmosphere, "are you feeling like a third wheel, Al?"

Albus pushed him away. "Piss off, James!"

James – although technically I should call him Professor Potter – laughed and stood back. "Ten points from Ravenclaw for swearing at a teacher."

"You can't do that!"

"Yeah I can."

"You're not even a real teacher!"

I somehow sense that James' swift intervention was not out of altruism, but I cannot complain. Scorpius and Albus were amicable enough for the rest of the day; a good thing for me, as I have suffered through their fights before and am usually forced to take the bed between them in the Dorm. Lily often jokes that if I had an Animagus form, it would be an owl so that I could transport passive-aggressive messages between the two of them.

The day so far has been going smoothly enough, following the tense breakfast. I have reconnected with many of my acquaintances that I lost contact with over the holidays, and it was particularly nice to have a chance to speak to Yolanda alone. I have missed her greatly since the last school year. She told me she is now going out with Nathan Nightingale. Congratulations to them – I always thought they were rather suited.

_Later_

I am pleased to write that the rest of my day continued to go smoothly. Classes were difficult, but enjoyably challenging, and no-one has had a breakdown from the stress yet. I cannot vouch for next week going without one, however.

I am in the library now, taking some time to myself before dinner. I find myself craving my own company when I am struck by inspiration for my studies with time. It was something Lily Luna said to me today during lunch. (Neither Scorpius nor Albus were at lunch today; I am led to understand that Rose was with Scorpius, and Albus was in the dungeons experimenting with potions again.)

"Oh, Lorcan!" Lily said, sitting down next to me. She stole some bacon off my plate, but I did not protest; I do need to take care of my cholesterol levels, after all. "I've been looking for you."

"You appear to have found me."

She grinned. She has a very pleasing smile. I returned it.

"How may I help you?"

"No, nothing, s'just a thought I had, and I reckoned you'd be interested."

"I am ever keen to listen to the wonders of your intellect."

People often mistake my sincerity for mocking. I cannot imagine why. But Lily always knows the difference, and continued to talk. I am glad; it is truly an honour to be graced by her ingenuity. "Time Travel."

"Ah."

I forgot about my lunch. In hindsight, that is probably why I am so hungry now; I ought to attend dinner soon.

"So, the Ministry's failed at making a Time Turner ever since my parents busted their stock up in 1996, right? But what about before that, when Time Turners could still be used? I know they only went back a couple of hours at a time, but if they were so dangerous and people were so paranoid about messing up time, why aren't there recorded incidents of people messing up and creating paradoxes?"

Lily stopped there and waited for my answer. "I suppose that if the subjective past were altered and the subjective future changed, one would not notice it; their memories would alter with it," I suggested. This was not a new concept, but it's helpful to reiterate things out loud; I find it helps one gain new perspectives on things.

"Ah, but!" She pulled out a sketch she'd done in shorthand ancient Runes.

"I hope you did not do this during one of your classes instead of work. Your mother will be very cross."

Lily waved her hand. "It was only Transfiguration."

"Your OWLs are this year."

"So? Pay attention!"

I obeyed.

"Here's what I think. Time is a flexible dimension, with everything that has happened and will happen all happening at once, just beyond the boundaries that our minds are capable of perceiving. But it's a _steady_ state of flux. What is is, and it physically _can't_ be changed, even if you know the future. Common theory, yes, but I'm gonna take it further: no matter what someone does in the past to change the future, they only ever end up creating it." She sat forward and tapped her diagram. "Which means if someone goes back into the past, they can do anything. _Anything_. And it won't affect the future, because it would have already happened."

I have always been a subscriber to the school of thought that at any given moment, we could be living in a "present" that has been altered by Time Travel and divergences in the past, but that our minds collectively "update", so to speak, to adapt to any of the changes, thus we would not notice them. Or perhaps – and far more likely, as per Lily's school of thought – time is a steady state of flux. What is, is, and cannot be altered. It is an intriguing idea. Not one I necessarily agree with, but an intriguing one nonetheless.

I do so enjoy conversing with her.

I must give this greater thought. After dinner, of course.

When you inevitably steal my journal again, Lysander, might I request that you do not leave my journal in the bathrooms again? I realise you feel quite at home there, but I do not consider it to be the most hygienic of places.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_- Aw, looks like the green-eyed Ravenclaw is feeling the claws of the green-eyed _monster_! Place your bets, people – my feeling is that brotherly intervention can only hold this little storm back for so long._

_- Look J-Lann - everyone's thinking it, so I'll just say it. The way you keep looking at your sister? Honey, no. You're even making _me_ uncomfortable._

_- Found: Three days worth of summer holiday snaps. Look sharp, Miss Green and Silver._

_- In other news, I'm sure you're all dying to know what happened to last year's drama queens, our beloved Class of 2023. Well, I can reveal exclusively that C and E's dramatic lakeside break-up has proved decidedly non-permanent. Unless C has found _another_ amour with such dramatic taste in capes…_


	3. correspondence I

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones**

three

_correspondence_

_October 2, 2023_

Miss Livia Malfoy  
Ravenswood College, Old Church Road  
Pembury, Tunbridge Wells  
Kent TN2 4AX, England

Dear Livia,

_So_ much is happening at Hogwarts this year! You won't believe this – Rose and Scorpius are dating! Gross, much? Imagine if they got married. We'd be brother- and sister-in-law. It's too weird for me to think about.

How are things with you? Is Ravenswood still going well? I finally read that series of books you lent me – they're really great! Muggles are hilarious when it comes to magic.

I still haven't fixed a Muggle phone to get reception in dense magical areas. And I probably won't get to try again until Christmas! The teachers confiscated my phone. So, instead! I am on a daring quest to uncover the identity of the mysterious GossipGhost. Ever since he or she appeared a couple of years ago people have been trying and failing to find out who it is and how they know so much about everyone. Usually I don't pay much attention to it but it's being really vicious this year and I don't have anything else to do. I mean, yeah, I have school work which is kind of important (but not as important as my inventions! Why can't people understand?). I'll let you know about my progress. So far the suspects are:

- Peeves (obvious)

- Myrtle

- A Slytherin girl in 7th Year whose name I haven't worked out

- A portrait (possibly Snape; he glares at everyone who walks past him)

So… basically I haven't gotten very far yet.

Samael is going to help me out, but he's a being stranger than usual this year. He keeps wanting me to help him research Necromancy. Eeurgh. I feel sorry for him, though – I think I'm his only friend. And don't worry, I'm not showing any of the letters to him. He knows not to read any of them if I'm not there to receive them.

Hope to hear from you soon!

Love,

Hugo

PS: Does your dad still have you on the magical theory lessons?

* * *

_October 7, 2023_

Malfoy, get over to Fortescue's _now_.

R. Weasley

* * *

_October 8, 2023_

Dear Rose,

Okay, what the _hell_ is this I hear about you and the Malfoy kid dating? When was this ever a thing? Was he even an _option_ for you? And most of all, why did I have to find out from Luna Lovegood?

Right, now that I've gotten that out of my system: I hope you're doing well and you're not working yourself up into a state about your NEWTs. I know how like your mother you get sometimes, so believe me when I tell you that your NEWTs aren't the defining moment of your life. And don't hurt yourself studying, either. I remember when your mum made me sit the NEWTs after the War – it wasn't like I _needed_ them and I thought I was doing fine, but _her_ stress about it made me sick up. So don't let her stress you out. Let me know if she does.

Things at home are going okay. Nothing exciting to report. Need anything from home? Write soon.

Love,

Your father

PS: Don't you even _think_ about marrying Scorpius. I mean it, Rose. This is my stern handwriting.

* * *

_October 15, 2023_

FORWARD TO:  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Hugo Weasley  
Weasley House, St. Andrew's Road  
Avon, Portbury  
Somerset BS24 9AY, UK

Dear Hugo,

Rose and Scorpius! Really? That's… unexpected, and quite bizarre. Was Scorpius even an option for Rose? How is Albus taking it?

Things are going well! School is challenging, as always. I am ever intrigued by the curriculum differences between the Magical world and the Muggle world. I've started Legal Studies this year and it's very interesting, although I think English will continue to be my one true love. It's nice being at school – I appreciate the hard work Dad does for me to be involved with the magical world, but it's nice to have a break from the reporters sometimes.

I'm glad you liked the books! I'll send you another one sometime soon.

I am sorry to hear about your phone being confiscated, but it's for the best, Hugo. I couldn't stand it if you disappeared for another year because you lost Hufflepuff 2000 points again! Then who would I write to? (As you can see, my feelings on the matter are completely unselfish.) So good luck with GossipGhost, and try not to get into too much trouble…

Good. Samael never admitted to it, but I _know_ he'd been reading my letters to you during the year Hufflepuff vanished and I am _not_ okay with that level of privacy invasion. I don't care how lonely he is, Hugo – my correspondence intended for you is for you only. If he wants to send me his own letters, he can. I disapprove of his level of fascination with Necromancy – please don't get involved with it, Hugo! Keep to your inventions. Or in this year's case, investigations. And do keep me posted on your progress with GG, I'm very interested!

Keep well, and write again soon!

Love,

Livia

PS: Yes, Dad is _still_ making me learn magical theory. It's all good and well to have an understanding of the theoretical properties of magic, but I just don't see the _point_. It's getting more complex every year and it's ridiculous to just learn theory when I'll never be able to put it into practice.

Sorry, that… turned into a bit of a rant. Why do you ask?

* * *

_October 23, 2023_

Dear Dad,

See, this is why I didn't tell you. I'd say you found out from Luna because Lysander probably whined about it in a letter to her. He's been insufferable all term! Sulking and jumping off the Astronomy Tower for attention. I gave him _plenty_ of attention last year, so he has no-one to blame but himself.

Thanks for the pep talk. It's been pretty stressful at school. Most of the teachers start every class by reassuring us that our NEWTs aren't the "be-all-and-end-all" of our lives, but that if we don't do well in them then basically we'll amount to nothing in life and will end up begging for Knuts in Knockturn Alley. A few kids have already been put in the Hospital Wing for stress and anxiety. I'm holding up okay for now. And, thanks again. I'll let you know if Mum starts scaring me.

No news is good news, right? I'm glad things are going all right. Other than my exams, things are all right here as well. Albus has been a sulky idiot since Scorpius told him that we were going out and he's being really annoying. I think he and Lysander should form a boy band so they can sing about their angst and be done with it. Hugo is diverting his energies into unveiling GG's identity ever since Professor Longbottom confiscated the Muggle phone he had on him. I guess you and Mum didn't do a very good job of checking his belongings!

Love,

Rose

PS: Usually the defence is that I'm seventeen and you can't tell me what to do anymore, but in reality it's if you want me to take you seriously, you could start by improving your penmanship – it took me three days to decipher your "stern" handwriting.

* * *

_October 29, 2023_

Dear Dad,

Sorry it's been a while since I wrote to you. You'll be pleased to hear that I'm keeping out of trouble, since things have been pretty busy with schoolwork. No quests with Rose and Al this year – we're all bogged down with work. And you should know by now that it's not us three you have to worry about anymore, it's Hugo and Lily. Thankfully none of the corridors or wings have exploded yet, which is a new record.

Transfiguration is really tough this year and Professor Morgenstern says that it's just going to get harder. I have to watch out that I don't fall behind Rose, otherwise she'll never let me hear the end of it.

Speaking of Rose, I'm dating her. She asked me out just before school started this year and I said yes, so… yeah. Just thought you'd want to hear it from me before you find out through the gossip vine or from Mr Weasley.

And speaking of gossip, GossipGhost is back. The teachers can't remove the sticking charm from that parchment on the general notice board. It's a pain in the arse. Hugo's on a quest to find GG's identity. He reckons it might be Myrtle, but I don't know.

I'll write again soon.

Love,

Scorpius

PS: Say hi to Marian and Hadrian for me, please?

* * *

_November 5, 2023_

Dear Scorpius,

That's all right; I assumed you would be busy. It pleases me to hear that you're keeping focused on your schoolwork. It is also pleasing to hear that the red-haired Weasley/Potter maniacs haven't blown up the school yet.

You, fall behind Rose in Transfiguration? Colour me shocked the day that happens.

Yes, I already know about you and Rose; her father told me (i.e.: ranted at me) about it at Fortescue's last month. And again at work. And then again at a dinner party. And yesterday at work again. I have no strong feelings on the matter one way or the other, but I'm quite… surprised, to be honest. Since when were you ever an option for her? But whatever you do, don't incur Weasley's wrath because _I'll_ be the one to get it first. I would like to keep what remains of my hair, Scorpius.

I keep hearing about this GossipGhost figure. I don't think it's Myrtle. I suppose Peeves is too obvious a culprit?

Talk to you again soon, Scorpius.

Love,

Your father

PS: You _could_ just write letters to them yourself, you know, but I will of course pass along your "hi". Marian says "Hello" and asked about how your classes are going, and Hadrian drooled on my shirt.

* * *

_November 14, 2023_

Dear Lysander,

I've heard from Neville that you have taken to jumping off the Astronomy Tower and swimming in the Lake. What peculiar hobbies, but if it's what you like doing, would you like a parachute now that your broom has been confiscated? Or maybe a canoe. They might be a bit hard to send by owl, though, so your father has also suggested some abseiling equipment and a bubble. I think the bubble is for a child, though – it seems too small to fit you.

Much love,

Luna

PS: Please stop taking your brother's diary. He is very fond of it, and you only need to ask if you want one for yourself.

* * *

_November 26, 2023_

Dear Lily,

Really? The Restricted Section? Your father is telling me I should be pleased that you waited until the end of November to get into trouble, but I'm not! You were _so close_ to being expelled in June, Lily – don't jeopardise the rest of your schooling because I swear to Merlin if you do, I am _not_ paying for you to go to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons – you'll have to get a job and pay for your own education! If you _have_ to break into the Restricted Section, at the very least try to not get caught.

Be grateful this isn't a Howler!

Love,

Mum

PS: I've attached a package of macaroons for you and your friends to share. Don't let Crowley near Malfoy's owl!


	4. from the journal of lorcan scamander III

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

A massive thanks to everyone who took the time to review! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, and Jenn would like me to pass along her thanks to those who have been enjoying GossipGhost! Thanks again, and we hope you like this chapter!

* * *

**Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones**

four

_from the not-so-private journal of Lorcan Scamander, continued_

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_November 18, 2023_

Once again I find myself unamused by my brother's antics, but at least he left my journal in the dungeons this time instead of a bathroom. It seems I shall have to once again find a better place to hide my journal; no matter what lengths I go to in order to keep it protected, Lysander somehow manages to find it.

I take solace in the fact that he has lost his bet for Albus' predicted "explosion" last night after dinner. We find the library does not always suit our means, as sometimes "studying" can become quite, well, loud and we are frequently asked to leave. The Common Rooms also do not suit our purposes during winter, because everyone goes there. So we utilise empty classrooms instead and Transfigure chairs into couches for general comfort.

Yesterday Rose carried on with Scorpius much as the way she had been for the last month and a half. They'd always been close – they were, after all, each other's first proper friends at Hogwarts – and it is not unusual to witness them curled up together on a couch. It _is_ unusual to witness Rose blatantly caressing his leg.

Lysander sulked about it and said nothing. For all his antics in throwing himself off the Astronomy tower and swimming in the Lake in the middle of winter, he really isn't very brave.

Albus was a little more vocal about his discomfort.

"Could you two _not?_" Albus finally snapped when Rose tugged Scorpius' arm around her shoulders.

Rose turned to face him and grinned. "What's the matter? Lysander's free to cuddle up with, if you're feeling excluded."

Albus sneered at her (and Lysander edged away a little), and returned to his essay. Scorpius looked torn.

"Hey, Al –"

"S'fine."

Scorpius disentangled himself from Rose. "Can we talk outside?" he asked Albus. "Please?"

Scorpius looked very distressed in that moment. Scorpius and Albus, for all their fights and clashes, are best friends, and they haven't been at ease with each other all term. Neither of them feel good about it, that much is obvious. Albus stared at Scorpius for a long second, ignoring myself and Lysander and Rose; the tension was palpable. Then he nodded and stood up.

"Yeah, okay. C'mon. No-one touch my essay."

Scorpius started to stand up as well, but Rose grabbed his arm. "No!"

Everyone was staring at her now.

"Uh…" Scorpius articulated.

She blushed. "It's just – I need – I need, uh –" Rose bit her lip and glanced around, and then quickly continued, "Transfiguration. This essay is due tomorrow, Scorpius, and I need your help. Now. For the rest of the night."

Indeed.

Albus scowled and Scorpius looked confused. "You never ask for help –"

"It's our NEWTs year, Scorpius!" she cried. "You have no idea what asking for your help is costing me, but I really need it!"

"Look, me and Al will just take a second –"

"You'll take hours, I know you will! Please, Scorpius!"

Scorpius looked torn again between his two best friends. Incur Rose's wrath for deserting her and her work, or incur Albus' ever-souring attitude?

Lysander seized his final chance to win his bet, and egged Albus' temper on. "Why should Al have to wait? You two have been excluding him all term!"

"Yeah," Albus agreed, encouraged by this. "And actually, I'm getting really annoyed!"

The glare Rose gave Lysander could have curled milk.

I have no desire to see my friends fight.

"I understand, Albus Severus," I soothed, and they all fell silent and turned to face me. "But you and Scorpius Hyperion will have the chance to talk tonight in the Dorm." (They did not, because it was late and they went straight to sleep.) "Let's try to finish our work first. If that is… hopefully agreeable with everyone?"

Tensions defused, Albus nodded stiffly and slumped back down into couch. Scorpius resumed his position beside Rose, but noticeably did not sit so close to her this time.

Lysander had the self-control to wait until afterwards when we all left the classroom to return to our respective Houses to approach me and smack my arm. "You absolute prat, you just lost me 50 Galleons!"

I resent his implication of sabotage. "It is not my fault you are unwise with your betting choices."

He stomped off after Rose back to the Gryffindor tower and knocked at least two young Slytherins right into the Bloody Baron's path.

So now he is cross with me. But I know of at least one person who will not complain, and is in fact quite grateful to me: I now have sufficient funds to purchase myself a rare out-of-print book on the subject of time travel.

It is quite possibly the first book ever written about the subject, the one to kick off the studies, and I am led to believe it was penned by one of my Scamander ancestors, dated back to the early 17th Century. I had the fortune to trace it through an antique books dealer in Hogsmeade when I was last there on a weekend. I have no doubt Lily will find it a most intriguing read.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_- Spotted: Three sherry bottles and a silvery stepladder. Looks like _someone's_ off the wagon again. Students of the future beware!_

_- Roses are red / Roses are white / Being rather clingy / With your boyfriend tonight?_

_- Darling Green-and-Silver Girl – someone like you shouldn't be looking so down! After all, you got the photos, you got the grades, and of course: you got the guy! Shame at least two of those things don't actually belong to you… or don't you remember?_

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_December 2, 2023_

Today was tiring, but eventful. I have succeeded in finding a hiding place for my journal, as Lysander has not stolen it and defiled it since mid-November. He is much frustrated by this and takes his emotions out on abseiling down the side of the Astronomy Tower. Father thought it would be easier to send that equipment than a parachute, although I suspect I know what Mother has for him for Christmas.

Of course, Lysander managed to talk Professor Longbottom into getting his broom back for the Quidditch match today, as he is Gryffindor's Chaser.

"All right, Lysander," Professor Longbottom agreed, "but _only_ for the game, and then it's coming straight back to my office. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Professor Longbottom held it back just as Lysander reached for it. "Play well, Mister Scamander," he said sternly, because Gryffindor's opponent was Hufflepuff and Professor Longbottom clearly had no intention of seeing his House lose to Professor Otterburn's House.

I made my way down to the Quidditch pitch with Lysander after that. Well, I say _I_ made my way; I in fact mean Lysander dragged me down because apparently if I spent another game in the library he'd disown me as his brother and brand me as a social recluse. I thought he'd already done both of those things but it is nice to know he is not _always_ a man of his word. One our way to the stands, I ran into Lily.

"Hi, Lorcan!" she said. "Looking forwards to the game?"

I had no strong feelings one way or the other, but Lily was, as usual, dressed to perfection and ready to cheer on Gryffindor House, being the Quidditch enthusiast that she is. She would no doubt be on the Gryffindor team by now if she hadn't been threatened with expulsion at the end of her fourth year. She won't be allowed to try out again until her sixth year.

"I am," I half-lied, and she snorted because she knows perfectly well about my indifference towards the game.

Lysander rather spoiled the mood by clapping a gloved hand hard on my shoulder. "Lorcan hates Quidditch,"

"_Hate_ is a strong word," I protested.

"You fell asleep during the Cannons versus the Harpies last year! Who _does_ that? You're such a bore, Lorcan." He swung his broomstick over his shoulder. "Cheer for me, won't you, little brother?"

I hardly think being born seven minutes after him makes me his "little" brother, but we have called each other worse things. "Assuming I haven't fallen asleep in the middle of the game, of course I shall cheer for you."

He beamed and sauntered off, presumably to try and impress Rose without utilising his speech. It has not been working to his advantage lately. I returned my attention to Lily.

"You sitting with the Ravenclaws today, or would you like to join me?" she asked.

I almost said I would like to join her, but at that moment David Forster arrived and wrapped his arm around Lily's shoulder.

It's not that I do not like Mister Forster; I am sure he is a fine young man and if I had the chance or desire to know him better, I'm sure we would get along. I would just rather enjoy Lily's company and intellect without having to be present for her intimate encounters with him.

"Hey, Lils." He tried to kiss her but she turned her face and he ended up kissing her cheek instead. "Coming up to the stands?"

"I said I'd be there," she said. "Now go save us seats so we can get a good view this time!"

Mister Forster shrugged and nodded at me, and went off to do as Lily bade him.

"Perhaps next time," I suggested, and she gave me a wry smile.

"Sure thing. See you later, Lorcan. Library tonight?"

"It would be my pleasure."

We parted ways, and I located Albus, Scorpius and Rose in the Ravenclaw stand just in time to catch the pre-game pep talks. (Rose often joins us for Quidditch matches when Gryffindor is not against our House, so this way we may all cheer for Lysander together. I am sure he appreciates the gesture.) Watching Terrence Trent inspire the Gryffindor Quidditch team is always entertaining. "If you don't get out there on that pitch and die for something, then I will kill you for nothing!"

Little wonder he and my brother get along so well.

I truly did try my hardest to pay attention to the game, and I did in fact cheer my brother on. I hear he scored most of the points for Gryffindor.

Halfway through the game there was a scuffling under my seat, so I bent down and stuck my head through the wooden slats to see Hugo and Samael Glyde lurking beneath, clearly on a mission. "Hello, Hugo Martin. Samael," I said, and they yelped and jumped in surprise.

"Lorcan! I didn't know it was you," Hugo said.

"I'd hardly expect you to be able to distinguish one behind from another, although mine is nicely sculpted."

"Uh."

"I hope it's not too cold down there for you."

"It is a bit," Hugo admitted. "But that's only because I can't get my heater to work."

He lifted up one of his magic-infused Muggle inventions.

"You _could_ just enchant a flame inside a glass jar, you know," Samael grumbled, rubbing his gloves together.

"But that's not what I'm experimenting with, Sam!"

"I shouldn't have to freeze so you can play with Muggle shit!"

"Have you checked the batteries, Hugo?" I asked, swiftly interrupting another argument. I fear the two boys have not been getting along well this year.

Hugo opened the back of his hand-held heater. "Oh."

Samael scowled again. "_Now_ can I warm myself up?"

The crowd cheered as someone made a score. I attributed it to my brother so I would not be in trouble later if he asked if I'd been watching (which he did). "Good luck, boys. Although if I may, I doubt you will find GossipGhost out here. There is little gossip material worth publishing during a Quidditch game unless you find yourself lost and happen across a passionate couple having sexual intercourse under the stands."

"That was oddly specific, Lorcan."

"It was one of the more puzzling days of my first year."

"Explains a lot," Samael muttered, and Hugo kicked him.

"Yeah, okay, we'll hunt around some other place. Say, _you_ wouldn't happen to know anything, would you?"

By this stage the blood was beginning to rush to my head from being upside down for so long. "I'm afraid not, Hugo Martin. But perhaps converse with the portraits? I find their observations very useful." Except for the odd one or two who start up conversations with me and expect me to know what they're talking about when I'd never spoken to them before. They are some of the older portraits, at least four hundred years old, and I suspect they probably need to be touched up.

"Thanks, Lorcan. See you 'round."

When I resurfaced the game was over, but Lysander gave me a second-by-second rundown of it afterwards anyway. I quite feel as though I'd watched it all myself.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_- Spotted: Two lions in the greenhouse _again_. Keep the roaring down this time, guys – the potions classroom hasn't recovered from that last little love triangle meltdown…_

_- Oh, Z. Z, Z, Z. We need to have a talk about your little displays of affection, darling. It's impressive, I'll admit, but if you set fire to the rain one more time, I think K'll just throw you into the lake. You don't want to spend your OWLs rolling in the deep now, do you? Work on something more subtle, like a lovesong – the sky won't fall if you do. And don't blush so, we all _know_ it was you._

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_December 20, 2023_

This entry shall be succinct; I have time only to record my conversation with Lily this afternoon, as we are on our way to contain a minor incident. She has paused now to change her robe – the one she was wearing has been shredded by Cornish pixies.

It is our second-last day of term, so no classes were held today and I spent the afternoon escaping the terribly awkward tension between Albus and Scorpius in the dormitory. My escape usually ends up in the library, however, which was where Lily found me not too long ago.

"Lorcan! Hi." She sat down opposite me. I took note of her shredded robe and untamed hair but as I do consider myself to be a gentleman, I made no comment; I assume she was already aware of her haggard appearance.

"Good afternoon, Lily. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

She strummed her fingers on the desk. "Just… wondering if you'd be able to help me with something?"

"Of course. Is it pressing?"

"Uh… possibly, but not necessarily?"

I know her well enough by now to know that definitely meant _yes_. But there's never any need to panic, so I said, "Well, why don't you take a seat and tell me about it, then?"

She did so. "So, uh… remember when I was in second year, and I found a bunch of Cornish pixies breeding in an abandoned classroom and I cast an experimental spell on them?"

"I'm afraid I do not recall the event."

Lily laughed uneasily. "Right, yeah. Because it was… secret and I kind of didn't tell anyone." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, I cast a spell I'd designed on them."

I believe I've mentioned already the sheer genius of Lily Luna Potter. Inventing and designing spells at the age of twelve, and casting them! (She also failed several of her exams that year, I remember, but that is not what is important.) I sat forward in interest. "Might I ask which spell?"

"Well, I _thought_ it was a time-displacement spell." She shrugged. "The pixies sort of… vanished. So I thought the spell didn't work, right?"

I nodded and patiently waited for her to continue.

She bit her lip and said, "As it turns out, I… sent them to now. As in, today. They, uh. Came back."

"The spell worked?" I exclaimed.

"That's not the point, Lorcan!" she cried, then paused and reconsidered. "Okay, so maybe it _is_ part of the point and I'm going to try the spell again as soon as I clean up this mess, but the main point is, I've trapped them in one of the broom closets so they don't escape and I need your help to get rid of them because they are some _seriously_ unhappy pixies."

I told her I would of course help her. "Out of curiosity, Lily," I added idly as we hastily made our way down, "how many pixies _are_ there?"

"Oh," she said vaguely, "just… just a couple. Not many."

I suspect she will return any second now with a non-shredded robe. I will end this entry here; some Cornish pixies await us.

* * *

_Entry by James Sirius Potter_

_December 21, 2023_

First things first: I legitimately have no idea how I ended up with Lorcan's journal.

Secondly: I also legitimately have no idea how my History of Magic class turned into a small battlefield yesterday, but I think it's how I got Lorcan's diary. Sorry, Lorcan. I'll do the best recounting I can on your behalf.

Thirdly: _Holy shit_, Lorcan, don't ever let Albus or Scorpius or Rose see this. Okay? Also, I had no idea you were such a snarky bastard, good for you.

So, now that that's out of the way:

Yesterday was about as normal as things get around Hogwarts. I get to call the teachers by their first names now! It's absurdly awesome. Feels a bit weird but I'll get used to it. After Neville – yeah, that's right, I can call him by his first name again – passed by to chat with me about some end-of-term class stuff, Hugo knocked on my door and came into my classroom.

"Hey James," Hugo said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure you can. But it's Professor Potter during school hours, Hugo," I added, because I'm a teacher now, yo.

Hugo looked dubious. "Are you even a _real_ teacher?"

Kids these days ain't got no respect. "Oh ye of little faith. I sit at the teacher's table. Isn't that enough?"

"No-one invited you up there."

"I signed a contract." At the beginning of the term. "So it's 'Professor Potter' to you, young man." I jumped up onto my desk and crossed my legs. "Now, what can I do you for?"

"Well, I was wondering if by any chance you'd have in your possession a particular item of enchanted clothing in the shape of a cloak that makes the wearer invisible that you might lend to me so I can sneak out at night? It may or may not be a Potter family heirloom."

I blinked. "That was… specific."

Hugo waited.

"The answer is no."

"I'm your cousin!"

"Oh, well, in that case, let me think about tha- no."

"Come on, James!"

"Uh, uh, uh!"

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Professor Potter."

"No can do, Hugo, you get into enough trouble on your own without an Invisibility Cloak as it is!"

"But this is for the greater good!"

"That's cute, Hugo." I ruffled his hair. He's fourteen and gangly and tall now so it didn't really work like it used to; he ducked out of the way and scowled at me. "Answer is still no. Now run along and keep packing up your stuff. I'm not finished here, but I'll be with you on the train tomorrow –"

Before I could finish, Lily burst into the classroom as well. I felt very popular. She looked out-of-breath and a tiny bit panicked. "James!"

"Lily, what's wrong?" I said, immediately concerned because I'm her big brother and it's my job to be concerned.

"Do you remember when I was experimenting with time travel and creating spells on a horde of Cornish pixies?"

"No," I said. "That must have been one of your more secret projects."

"Oh." She bit her lip. "Well, it was… a few years ago, and they sort of… disappeared."

"Disappeared to where?"

"To… now?"

I didn't get a chance to reply because Lorcan, half of Gryffindor, Morgan Morgenstern, Antonius Otterburn, Neville, and an army of Cornish pixies burst through my door.

"Lily…" I warned, and Hugo let out a whoop and helped Morgan turn a table over to use as a barricade against the pixies.

"For Hogwarts!"

"Get down, Weasley!" Morgan snapped.

"Please don't tell Mum and Dad!" Lily begged me, and dived behind an upturned table to join in the battle with Lorcan.

And that was how my classroom turned into a minor warzone, and I think that's how Lorcan's diary got mixed up with my stuff.

_Later_

So I didn't realise I had Lorcan's diary mixed up in my bag (which is covered in pixie crap now, thanks a bunch, Lily) until I got home several hours ago today. Took a break just now from my recount to eat dinner and explain to Mum that the Cornish pixies must have been breeding in an abandoned classroom, no, Lily didn't have anything to do with it this time… (You owe me, Lily!)

The Cornish pixie siege lasted the night. By morning, we weary warriors staggered from the battlefield, shaken and traumatised. We will never truly recover from our ordeal. My poor classroom.

On the plus side, I think I just got inspiration! Let's see how boring my students think the Goblin Rebellions are now when I make them build barricades in the hallways. Mwhahahaha.

Anyway. We finally got the pixie situation under control, although by the end of it Hufflepuff, half of Slytherin, and most of the staff joined in as well. It ended on a real whimper; the last pixie went down, everyone sort of stopped and stared at each other, and shrugged and went off to collect their trunks and made their way to the Hogwarts Express, and that was the end of the Great Hogwarts Cornish Pixie War of 2023.

I didn't grab Lily on her way out, but that's okay, because I _know where she lives._

I wasn't going to write this part down because Lorcan was there for it, but hey, it's either this or marking student essays and I don't feel like doing that tonight. So. As a teacher, I get to patrol the Hogwarts Express. Kind of like the Head Boy or a Prefect, except I get to boss them around as well. I _love_ being a teacher. The ride was pretty eventless, thought I noticed Albus and Scorpius sat in different compartments. Looks like Rose is _still_ bullying Scorpius into going out with her. But seriously, what for? She's made Lysander more than jealous, if you ask me, so she doesn't need to keep driving a wedge between Al and Scorpius. Also, if she doesn't break up with Malfoy soon, I'm going to lose my mid-February bet. And then my June bet for her and Lysander.

Blimey. The only one of that lot not involved in a "shipping" bet is Lorcan, and that's just because everyone assumes he's asexual. (It's nothing to be ashamed of Lorcan, I promise.)

I'll be staying back at home for the short Christmas break, so I waited with my brethren on Platform 9 ¾ for our respective families to collect us. Well, collect _them_. I can Apparate now. Hah. Luna and Mr Scamander came to say hello to everyone, and I got to hold Hadrian for a while – he seemed to think my hair was a great thing to chew on. The interesting part was when we were all ready to part ways: Scorpius came up to Albus to say goodbye.

"See you over Christmas, Al?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Albus grumbled.

I guess the Christmas spirit hasn't taken hold of Al yet.

Scorpius didn't look happy with this response, so he turned around and went back to his family.

On the _other_ side of me, Rose was bullying Lysander.

"Well?" she demanded, expecting him to confess his love for her and ask her out. At least that's what _I_ was expecting.

Lysander shrugged awkwardly. "Well, I… I guess I'll see you over Christmas?"

Rose didn't look impressed. "Yeah, see you then, Lysander."

Then she turned around and walked up to Scorpius, grabbed his tie, and – I shit you not – hauled him in for a kiss in front of _everyone_.

And Scorpius _kissed her back_. Like, actually full-on kissed back instead of just standing there and passively receiving her tongue. In front of his dad and Muggle stepmother, and in front of Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, and in front of Albus and Lysander and Lorcan.

Good grief, Al's face was _hilarious_. He looked like someone was squeezing his balls in a vice.

When they finally stopped snogging, Rose turned around and glared at Lysander, and Scorpius looked over Rose's shoulder to glare at Albus. Then they walked off.

The parents were all sort of stunned into horrified silence.

"What do you suppose actually goes _on_ at that school, anyway?" Dad finally asked out loud, totally bewildered.

"Education, I guess, since you don't go there any more," Mr Malfoy replied, and earned himself a kick in the shin from Uncle Ron.

So now Albus is sulking harder than ever and it's driving me insane, and I'm going to have to think of a favour to collect from Lily for covering for her about the pixies – otherwise she really _would_ have been expelled.

Gotta love my family.

Merry Christmas, Lorcan! I'm sure I'll be seeing you at the dinner. I'll give this back to you then.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_Such an exciting end to the term! Tables turning everywhere, and I don't just mean on those pesky pixies…_

_- Spotted: Two staff members having an… _interesting_ discussion. We name no names, but rumour has it these tête-à-têtes__ are more common than you'd think. The only question is – do their _wives_ know?_

_- My spies tell me a certain couple got up to some _scandalous_ antics at the platform last week. To all participants involved, I have only this to say: you people are ridiculous. _

_Such a shame our little soap opera hasn't much progressed, though the tenacity of our new power couple is surprising everyone! One could almost suspect… but no. _Surely_ their love is nothing but pure and true?_

_Have a delicious Christmas, my darling scandal-mongers, and hurry back soon – I'll be waiting._

_xoxo GossipGhost_


	5. from the journal of lorcan scamander IV

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up! Life has been busy, dear readers. A massive thank-you to the people who took the time to review! Even though I cannot reply to some reviews, please know how deeply I appreciate your words and feedback, and I'm delighted you're enjoying the story. My friend and muse **Jenn** passes along her thanks as well for the GossipGhost feedback! And, as always, a massive thanks to Jenn for her incredible work. Couldn't have done this without you! We hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

**Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones**

five

_from the not-so-private journal of Lorcan Scamander, continued_

_Entry by Lily Luna Potter_

_December 30, 2023_

Oh. My. _God_. This is incredible. I mean, James is right, Lorcan: don't _ever_ let Rose or Al or Scorpius see this. But this is amazing. Just when I thought you'd run out of ways to surprise me…

I mean, yeah, at _first_ when I nicked this out of James' bag I thought this was a very odd, quirky, handwritten novel by him, but then halfway through the first entry I realised it was your journal! Good thing I did, too, otherwise I'd have kept on reading. And possibly annotated it with snarky commentary. Don't worry, I didn't read much of it – just skimmed the pages. Why are there cocks drawn on some of the pages?

I guess this is why you hunted around James' room for hours on Christmas after dinner, then – to get your journal back? Oops. Sorry. I really thought I was stealing something of James' to make fun of. Although I guess if I want to find something emo and dramatic to make fun of, I'll have to go through Albus' room and find his angsty poetry. James is far too upbeat to make fun of. (I think he's _serious_ about the barricade stuff!)

Anyway, not to worry. I'll be seeing you in a few days anyway at the Platform – I have to return _Infinitisms of the Temporal Dimension_ to you so I'll give you your journal then as well. And in the meantime I might as well fill in the gaps for you to save you an entry of recounts. Also because I'm stuck on my latest design of a three-tier Time Turner (the Arithmancy of it is all unbalanced) and I'm bored. (OWLs? What OWLs?)

So… I don't actually keep a journal, so I'm not sure what to write on your behalf. I guess I'll pick up from the Christmas dinner? Geeze, those things have gotten big. I remember when I was only nine or ten and the dinners were limited to my parents and my Mum's family and all five thousand of my red-haired cousins. And then your family started joining us, Lorcan, and then the Malfoys as well, and then Mr Malfoy got married and had another kid. I mean, it's great fun, but there are _so many people_ there I never know who to talk to or what to talk about other than how many exams I've failed. I hope you didn't mind me hanging around you all night and talking your ears off about my "independent study", ahem.

Anyway. Christmas dinner. Us "kids" were given our own table this time, so that the main table(s) could accommodate all of the adults. Personally I think the parents just do it so they can watch the teenage drama unfolding from a safe distance. Anyway, halfway through dessert, you – okay, this weird. Do I talk about you in the second person or the third person when I'm writing about you in your own journal? This is so awkward. You. You pulled out a fan. An actual, honest-to-goodness fan, complete with a floral design on it, and started fanning yourself in between servings of ice cream and fruitcake. I'm sure it had nothing at all to do with Lysander moping at Rose and Scorpius and making our side of the table really depressive.

It took him a while to notice. "Lorcan," he finally said, turning his head to stare at it, "is that a fan?"

"It is," you said, and offered no further explanation.

"…Okay. _Why_ do you have a fan?"

"I find it indescribably useful. It is pleasant way of keeping oneself cool, you see."

"It's snowing outside."

"And it is quite warm in here."

Which… yeah, it was. I couldn't argue with that.

Lysander stared some more. "You look like a twat."

"I do try."

Lysander rolled his eyes and tried to snatch the fan out of your hands, but failed and ended up with his elbow in the butter. He thankfully didn't go back to staring wistfully at Rose – instead he faced James and pretended to engage in a discussion about the Goblin Rebellions. I was watching you, you know – you _totally_ smiled.

I also noticed you put the fan away after that, but didn't hide it. I'm willing to bet that the next time I see Lysander, he'll be trying to flush the fan down a toilet. Better stock up, Lorcan.

"Oh, Lorcan!" James said a few minutes later, as if just noticing you were there. To be fair, James _had_ been distracted by explaining his class plans to anyone who would listen (which turned out to be the whole table because of how loud his voice was) and it _was_ a pretty full table. "I just remembered. I have your journal! It's covered in pixie shit, sorry."

Lysander stood up and pointed at you. "Ha, see!" he crowed. "It wasn't me this time, you pretentious twat! You spent the last three days accusing me of taking it, and it wasn't me!"

He sounded happier about this than the situation merited, if you ask me. You sighed crossed your arms. "And now I suppose you'd like me to apologise?"

"I'd like that a lot, actually, thanks."

"I apologise for assuming it was you who took my journal, even though it seemed a logical assumption considering you have taken it at least twelve times in the last three months."

Lysander scowled. "Okay, Lorcan, we need to work on your apology skills."

So, let me know how that goes.

More dessert happened, and while you discussed classwork with Albus, I had the chance to talk to Rose. "So, Rose," I asked when Scorpius left the table to go to the bathroom. "How are studies going?"

She'd just taken an absurdly large mouthful of food, so she glared at me and had to chew for a good thirty seconds before she could answer. "They're going pretty well, thanks," she said, "Arithamancy is painfully difficult and there's so much to do, but…"

I nodded and let her ramble on about her subjects and NEWTs for a while, then thought of something else to ask. "So, you and Scorpius, huh?"

She rolled her eyes. I could tell she was getting very tired of people asking her that, but I have no sympathy for her – if she didn't want people asking, she shouldn't have bullied him into dating her. "Yes, me and Scorpius," she said. "Is there a problem with that?"

"No, not at all. Just… surprising, is all." I was silent for a moment, then asked, "So it wouldn't have anything to do with Lysander being an oblivion, would it?"

Rose had her mouth full of food again. The _look_ she gave me, Merlin! She swallowed with difficulty and snapped, "Oh my God, Lily, stop _doing_ that!"

"What? Just talk with your mouth full, no-one will judge you."

"I, unlike _some_, are civilised at the dinner table."

Hence why she locked lips with Scorpius barely ten minutes later when he got back, and it didn't escape my attention that she didn't answer the question either. I mean, yeah, she's best friends with Scorpius and all but it just doesn't seem right, those two. I still can't wrap my head around it. Was he even an option for her?

After that… the rest of the night went as smoothly as it could with about five hundred red-haired relatives around and my other brother brooding about Scorpius and Rose. He really just needs to get his act together and ask Scorpius out. Or take up death-defying stunts like Lysander. Actually, I noticed your brother recently came into possession of hang glider. Was that… wise, of Luna, to give him that for Christmas?

_Later (December 31, 2023)_

I just happened to overhear the most _interesting_ conversation. I mean, yeah, technically it was a private confidential conversation, and technically a Silencing Charm was up, and _technically_ I could be given a warning from and/or arrested by the Ministry for spying on the Head Auror and an Unspeakable. But like I said: _technically_. It clearly wasn't all that private if they were talking in the lounge room through the fireplace, so if they didn't want anyone accidentally listening in then they really ought to have gone someplace more secure.

Just saying.

It's a bit after midnight now, and I swear I only went downstairs for a midnight snack. Chocolate Frogs, you know? Great fuel for the mind. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. As soon as I passed the lounge room I noticed there was a Silencing Charm up. You can hear the difference between normal silence and artificial silence – like the house itself stops existing for a small section. I might have caught sight of Dad talking to Uncle Percy through the fireplace. So I… also might have taken the Silencing Charm down?

Look, it was all in the name of the greater good, I promise. You'll be interested in this.

I overheard the last part of what Dad was asking Percy: "…completed the development, yet?"

"Not yet, but we're close. The glass is almost _perfect_. The latest experimental design is very strong – much stronger than the hourglasses of the old time turners."

"Great, keep going with it. Good luck, Percy."

I ran back to my room before Dad could turn around and notice me there. I didn't end up getting my Chocolate Frogs, but that's okay – I got something better. I got _inspiration!_ Do you know what this means? The Ministry is also trying to remake Time Turners! But the only official studies into it have been studies of the old models – they just want to recreate what used to be. They lack the imagination to _develop_. But us?

If the Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries are making stronger hourglasses… Lorcan, they have incredible resources in the Department of Mysteries. If they've made an hourglass that can accommodate the time travel I envision, all that's left is for _us_ to make a frame around it and the sand. And a whole lot of other technical stuff that you know the names to and the like.

I'm too excited to sleep now! I've been sketching like crazy – just scribbles about my designs and prototype spells – and I'll probably be up the rest of the night. But I'll be seeing you and your finely sculpted arse in a few days. Let's talk further about this! (The time travel stuff, that is. Not your finely sculpted arse.)

(Although we can if you want to, I'm not opposed to it.)

And I'm sorry about the graffiti on the next few pages.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_Hogwarts students have it easy when it comes to crime and punishment. I hear over at Beauxbatons they'll give students nineteen weeks detention for stealing baguettes from the dinner table! Yeah, you guys have it easy.  
_

_But how easy is __too__ easy? Some crimes often go unpunished. Lying, cheating, messing with the natural order of things… It's a new year, and it's time to 'fess up, ladies and gentlemen. __Clean out those skeletons before I do it for you._

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_January 3, 2024_

Hardy graffiti, Lily Luna – you may consider them mere sketchings but what you have drawn is an actual model of a Time Turner that, constructed with the right materials, could plausibly work. Lily, you say you almost thought I'd run out of ways to surprise you. But your mind will never cease to amaze me.

If you could refine the time-displacement spell you created – and I am not at all advocating that you pursue your independent study over your OWLs, as that would be irresponsible of me – it could feasibly be one of the core elements of a Time Turner. I must investigate the Arithmancy of this idea.

_Later_

It occurs to me that I am writing of Lily Luna in the second person, as though I am expecting her to read this entry before I see her again, which is unlikely. But the point remains – what Lily has sketched in my journal is nothing short of an artwork and a masterpiece, and quite possibly one of the most significant magical advances of this era. I believe that between the two of us – my logic and her imagination, my theoretical and philosophical understanding of the field and her sheer ingenuity – and _Infinitisms of the Temporal Dimension_, and the hourglass being created by the Ministry… we could, together, create a working Time Turner, something greater than anything that ever existed in the subjective past.

_Later again_

In the aftermath of discovering Lily's sketchings, I was too deeply in awe of her to record the events of the day. Lily returned my journal to me when we arrived at Hogwarts, just before the feast, but I did not have a chance to review its updated contents (thank you, James and Lily) until a few hours ago in the library.

It has been an eventful first day of term. Nothing of particular note happened until we all reached Platform 9 ¾ at more or less the same time, as per usual. The usual rituals occurred: parents told their children to behave, Hugo Martin and Miss Livia conversed in their own space, and Albus and Scorpius were quarrelling. Which, in retrospect, was not actually part of the usual ritual. They have a penchant for gentle mocking at times, but the tones of their voices this morning quickly rose to a level of intensity that made it quite clear this was a very serious argument. I fear I did not catch the beginning of it, but in regards to the content of the conversation, it is now easy to guess:

"…well maybe if you detached yourself from Rose long enough to pay attention to the people around you –!"

"If the people around me have something to say, then I suggest they say it instead of waiting and sulking!" Scorpius snapped back, and the surrounding group of friends and family members fell silent.

Albus fumed. "All right," he said tightly. "Fine. You think I didn't know?"

"Know _what_?"

"Know why you're dating Rose?"

"Uh, she asked me out? Duh."

"Because you're a fucking coward!" Albus shouted, pushing Scorpius hard in the chest. Scorpius staggered backwards, then straightened himself and pushed Albus back.

"Oh, _I'm_ the coward, am I?" he said, digging his finger into Albus' sternum. "_I'm_ the coward? What about you? You've spent the last three months being pathetic and moping – you think _I_ didn't notice the way you look at m—"

I presume that last word was going to be "me" (as in, Scorpius, not myself), but he did not complete his sentence as Albus' fist collided with his jaw instead.

This was different to their other physical fights. In the past, when they wanted to hurt each other, it was with words – strategically, emotionally charged words designed to cause pain and immediately laced with regret after utterance. If they ever fought hand-to-hand, the wounds were superficial.

This fight looked very painful, and none of their hits pulled back – and it reached the point where barely a few seconds into the fight, Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy moved into break the two apart before someone's rib was broken.

"Break it up, break it up!" Mr Malfoy shouted, getting in between the two quarrelling friends and hauling his son off Albus. Mr Potter pulled Albus up, holding him back from Scorpius. Both boys had bruised eyes and cut lips, but thanks to the fast responses of their respective parents they were not injured terribly seriously. They'll both be quite sore for the next few days, but otherwise no lasting harm done. (Physically, that is – I suspect I will be made their passive-aggressive messenger for the foreseeable future.)

"What's going on?" Mr Potter demanded.

"Nothing," Albus spat, and jerked out of his father's hold and stalked off onto the Hogwarts Express.

"Scorpius?" Mr Malfoy asked him, and Scorpius shook his head and went onto the train as well – a completely different carriage – after shooting off a vague promise to write. Their respective families were silent in either astonishment or shock, although Hadrian Malfoy seemed to find the situation rather hilarious and let his enjoyment be known in the form of laughter.

Mr Malfoy, looking utterly bewildered, turned to face his son. "Now _you're_ not going to cause me any stress, are you, Hadrian?" he asked.

Young Hadrian giggled in his mother's arms and promised nothing of the sort.

I am sad to report that Scorpius and Albus spent the rest of the night ignoring each other and maintaining as much distance as feasibly possible. Scorpius sat at the Slytherin table with Johannes Cabal during the feast, Albus sat on the Gryffindor table with Lysander, and Rose sat with me on the Ravenclaw table in extremely guilty silence.

The ghosts and teachers seemed to be enjoying the show a little _too_ much.

It is now after dinner and Scorpius and Albus have disrupted the entire dormitory in an admirable effort to be as far apart from each other as humanly possible while confined to the same room. I have been relocated to Scorpius' bed – _without_ my permission, I feel compelled to mention – and Nathan Nightingale and Rowan Davies have been pushed out of their beds as well, to their audible discomfort. I had no intention of remaining there to be used as a passive-aggressive mediator, hence my decision to "haunt the library" for the rest of the evening, as Lysander describes it. I simply have to remember which bed to return to when I retire for the evening so I do not become unnecessarily intimate with Rowan by accident. Again.

I think perhaps it will soon be time to have a word with Rose, but I shall first wait and see if Albus Severus and Scorpius Hyperion reconcile on their own. I take pride in my usual non-intervention poli– _[sentence blotted out by spilled ink]_

And I think perhaps it is also time to pay attention to Lysander, who has now stooped to the sad, low depths of sabotaging my in-progress writings so that I may help him into his hang glider harness. I despair for his future and I see no way in which his latest stunt end in absolute disaster and/or hilarity and detention. Not that I take pleasure from my brother's attempts at attention seeking. Of course not. That would be simply awful of me.

_Later again_

Oh, and in regards to my floral fan: Lysander did indeed flush it down the toilet, but he made the mistake of doing it in his _own_ toilet and blocked the drains, and ended up with a flooded bedroom. I have no sympathy for him.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_- I don't mean to pry, but judging by the amount of mail headed for the staff table, it seems like someone's taking parent-teacher conferencing to a whole new level! And speaking of our saucy staff, I hear one of the esteemed professors had a transfiguring experience last night…_

_- Outrage in the Owlery? Seems to be more ruffled feathers around than usual. Could our little Ravenclaw dust-up have spilled over to the pets?_

_Addendum: On further investigation, quite the opposite. At least one set of birdbrains have their heads screwed on straight._

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_January 10, 2024_

I had the pleasure of bumping into Professor Longbottom this afternoon in between classes. Quite literally, I bumped into him, and I believe my book bag bruised his shoulder rather badly. I generally try not to make a habit of assaulting Professors with my luggage and I am usually much more careful, but this particular instance was because of my less than graceful attempts to side-step a fight that broke out today between two girls from my year, a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff. I _did_ manage to avoid their altercation, but I was not so fast as to avoid the crowd of students and ghosts who converged around the girls to chant "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

It was all terribly uncivilised.

"Oh, I do apologise, Professor Longbottom," I said after I collided with him. "I hope I've not harmed you too grievously."

"Well, if you have, I'll be sure to forward the hospital bill to you," he replied, rubbing his shoulder and keeping an eye on the quarrelling girls. "How are classes going, Lorcan?"

"They are operose but gratifying."

Behind me, a portrait of a former Headmistress told me to get out of the way as I was blocking her view.

"…Right," Professor Longbottom said. "I'm glad to hear it. How's Luna going?"

I informed him that she was quite well and enjoying her winter vacation in Canada hunting for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.

Professor Longbottom looked rather perplexed. "I thought she said they only lived in Sweden."

"She fancied a skiing trip," I explained. He looked amused by this, then asked if I was headed to class. I informed him that yes, I was – History of Magic, in fact – and he said that he'd accompany me to the room. Before he did, he took a moment aside to direct some teachers into breaking up the fight between Miss Waldorf and Miss van der Woodsen, then continued along the corridor on the way to Professor Potter's classroom.

Because of my run-in with Professor Longbottom I was a little on the tardy side of things, but James did not seem to notice as by the time we arrived at the classroom, he was already directing his students to pile the chairs and desks in a corner.

"Uh, James, a moment, please?" Professor Longbottom asked, and I joined Rose who was eyeing the pile of furniture with abject horror.

"I don't like where this is going," she said. I neither agreed nor disagreed verbally, as I doubted she was all that interested in my opinion anyway, and instead caught the conversation between our esteemed History of Magic Professor and the Deputy Headmaster.

"…it's all very interesting in theory, James, but please don't get too carried away with it."

"I won't!" James insisted. "I just think it'll be a really great and interactive way for the students to learn about the Goblin Rebellions. At least let me trial it for a few weeks?"

Professor Longbottom looked uneasy. "Only if you assure me that Cornish Pixies won't be involved."

"The Great Hogwarts Cornish Pixie War of 2023 is a devastating chapter of our history, but it is now long in the past, and there is a new life about to start when tomorrow comes," James said solemnly and started pushing him towards the door.

"That's… practically the exact opposite of what I asked –"

"Leave it all to me, Neville, I know _exactly_ what I'm doing."

"But you didn't promise you'd –"

"Say no more! Just trust me, and allow me to enrich the minds of my students."

"James –"

"Thank you, Deputy Headmaster!"

"_You're not even a real teacher, James_ –"

James closed the door on him and turned around to sternly face his bemused students. "I sit at the teacher's table. Does anyone else here want to challenge my authority?"

My peers all shook their heads.

"Excellent! Now, help me pile the tables up along this side of the room, won't you?"

We all obliged.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_- Another term, another catfight. Seems like our Queen of Green has finally discovered what happens when you poke a sleeping badger. Well, that's what you get for stealing her man, B!_

_- Spotted: A series of charming little love notes, all for me! Seems like some of the firsties still haven't grasped the way things run around here. "Ghostbusters" indeed. You guys should take some lessons from little H – he's sweet, discreet, and going nowhere fast. Shame about the company he keeps._

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_January 17, 2024_

That was a highly enlightening evening.

After a long day of classes and tests (nothing in particular worth recording, except perhaps the sudden headache I received that stopped me from attending my History of Magic class) – and at least a collective hour spent navigating my way through three corridors' worth of Goblin Rebellion reinactment barricades – I returned to the Ravenclaw door to rest for the remainder of the day. At that was intention, at least; my day-to-day plans are in general quite flexible.

Upon arriving the entrance – this was just after dinner, but an hour or so before curfew – I discovered Albus Severus had set up camp outside in the corridor, with his textbooks and essays spread around him. He looked very uncomfortable.

"Good evening, Albus Severus."

He looked up and sighed in relief. "Lorcan, thank _Merlin_ you're here. I couldn't get in," he admitted, "and almost everyone's inside now. Can you help me get in?"

"Of course I can," I said. "You will no doubt find the tables a more comfortable place to study."

He stretched his arms and something audibly cracked. "You can say that again," he muttered. "You want to join me?"

I almost said yes, but I changed my mind at the last moment. "Perhaps another time, Albus Severus. I have an errand to run."

"'Kay."

I knocked on the door.

"What occurs once in every minute, twice in every moment, yet never in a thousand years?" the eagle doorknob asked.

Whilst it would have been lovely to philosophise with the door, Albus looked very miserable on the ground on his own. (I doubt either of us would have minded so much if he had Scorpius Hyperion to keep him company.) I pondered the door's question for a moment, then responded, "The letter _m_."

"Well reasoned," the eagle replied, and the door opened. Let it never be said I am not altruistic.

"Oh, come on!" Albus cried, roughly gathering and shoving his papers and books into his bag. I heard at least one inkpot shatter in there. "Are you fucking _kidding me_? The letter _m_?! Why the hell am I even _in_ Ravenclaw? Merlin's saggy left testicle –!"

I did not interrupt his rant, nor did I enter the Ravenclaw Common Room with him. I instead parted ways with him and made my way to run the aforementioned errand, which culminated in me arriving at a particular favourite empty classroom of Rose Victoria. I happened to pass Hugo Martin on the way, with an unwilling Samael Glyde in tow – "Still searching for GossipGhost, Hugo Martin?" I asked. "We've got a lead!" he replied, then tore off down the corridor – and I expect them to be losing at least a hundred points apiece by tomorrow morning for being out of bed after curfew. It will bring Hugo Martin's lost-points tally to 570. Not that I am maintaining a record.

Rose often spends her spare time in this unused classroom when her cousin and best friend fight, to escape the soured territory of both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw – but she has also been known to take refuge there when feeling largely responsible for something.

"You've been oddly quiet as of late, Rose Victoria," I said as per introducing my presence. She jumped and faced me, and her expression went from brief hopefulness to its recent glumness.

"Oh, Lorcan. I – I thought you were Lysander for a moment," she explained.

I did not take it personally. I nodded instead and walked around her, admiring the view of the lake. Lysander was not at that time canoeing in it, nor was he swimming, which leads me to believe he was probably breaking into the Quidditch supplies to surf a Bludger. (It reportedly did not end well for him.) "Yes, people often confuse us, hence my distinct haircut."

"I thought Lysander just cut your hair while you were sleeping," Rose said.

"He did, but I maintained the style. It's rather dashing, don't you think?"

"…That's not really the word I'd have used, but okay."

She fell silent again and I sat down beside her. "I'm surprised you are not studying," I said, as it was in fact peculiar to see her without a book of some sort.

Rose shrugged. "It's hard to study when your two best friends are fighting."

"Indeed," I agreed. "I think your 'feelings' for Scorpius has become something of a point of conflict for the three of you."

Rose chewed anxiously on her lower lip, looking very much like her mother in that moment.

"Or perhaps," I continued, "you, like my brother, are quite unwise with your betting choices."

She took one more look at me and moaned, covering her face with her hands. "Okay, yes!" she cried, sounding very pained. "I don't have romantic feelings for Scorpius at all, I only asked him out because I knew it would make Lysander jealous, and – and because…" She winced very guiltily. "Because I knew Score and Al were getting far too close over the summer holidays and I might have put a decent amount on the first week of May for them!"

Ah, money. The best motivator, and the greatest corrupter.

"I couldn't risk them getting together before then!" Rose kept on going. "And now I've completely ruined our friendships and they're not talking to each other at all because they're just so stupidly in love with each other and I was more interested in a stupid betting pool than helping them be together."

I nodded. "Yes, I thought it was something like that."

"I'm a _horrible_ friend!" she wailed, and started to cry.

I patted her back in an attempt to console her.

"You won't tell them, will you?" she begged tearfully, although I do have to wonder how much of her emotions were due to her own self-pity and how much was due to the general stresses of our NEWTs year.

"I will not," I promised her, "but I strongly recommend you say something to them yourself."

"She doesn't have to," came Scorpius' voice from the entrance, and Rose and myself jumped, a little startled.

"Scorpius, you creep, what are you doing here?" Rose snapped, standing up hurriedly to round on him.

He stared at her and walked forward. "…I came to break up with you, actually."

Rose blinked. "…Oh." She swallowed, glanced at me – I offered no moral support, true to my strict non-intervention policy – and said, "How – how much did you hear?"

"All of it."

"Oh," she said again, and Scorpius sighed heavily and walked closer to her.

"Look, I'm not angry. I was, but I'm just – not angry anymore, not really. I'm _upset_ and I can't believe you'd do this to me. To _Albus_."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He shook his head and sighed again.

"Rose, I – I can't stand fighting with Albus like this." He pressed his lips together and took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for an important announcement. "I'm… I'm in love with him. I've been in love with him for _years_, but –"

"I know," Rose interrupted.

Scorpius faltered at her bluntness and unswayed emotions in response to the beginning of his speech, but made a valiant effort to continue. "But I didn't admit to myself because I was… scared, you know?"

"Yes, I know," Rose said bluntly again, and this time he crossed his arms.

"Rose, I'm trying to come out of the closet here."

She finally caught on. "Oh!" she cried, and put on the appropriate emotional expression. "Oh. Sorry. Please continue."

Scorpius continued. I do not believe it would be appropriate of me to record the entirety of Scorpius' "coming out" speech in this journal, as it seems capable of practically jumping into the hands of anyone who passes by. I will merely state that it was a very stirring, emotional speech for him, and afterwards Rose was hugging him very tightly and assuring him that Mr Malfoy would not be unaccepting of his son's sexuality.

After he'd cleaned himself up and Rose had offered him a Cockroach Cluster (politely declined), Scorpius frowned and said, "Say… how much would you stand to lose, if I went to Albus now and talked to him and we made up in the next few days instead of May?"

Rose winced. "A lot, but I guess it's nothing less than what I deserve. Why?"

He ignored the question. "Right. And how much would you stand to _win_ if Albus and I did get together at the beginning of May?"

Rose bit her lower lip again. "Enough to make a profit of over two hundred galleons?" she admitted.

Scorpius' mouth stretched to a sly grin. "Well," he said. "Rose Weasley. Let's say that I will not break up with you until the end of April – on the condition that we bring Albus in on this, and you split the final cut three ways."

Rose stared at him, then grinned at him, and the two looked as thick as thieves. "Deal."

They shook on it.

"Just one more thing," Scorpius said. "What about Lysander?"

Rose huffed. (By this stage, I believe they'd both completely forgotten my presence in the room.) "Lysander had all of last year and the year before that to pay attention, and you know what? I asked him out _three times_, and he barely noticed. So if he wants to ask me out, he should just grow a pair and _ask_ me instead of jumping off the Astronomy Tower!"

Scorpius laughed. "Right, well. Until he grows a pair, I am… not opposed to maintaining a romantic relationship with you." He paused and tilted his head. "After all, you're… not a bad kisser."

"You're not so bad, either," Rose allowed, and they looked at each other.

"Well…" Scorpius shrugged. "Wanna do it again?"

She blinked. "…Sure."

I decided it would be impertinent of me to stay for the show. I departed the room and left the two to their unethical rigging of very serious stakes, and I was informed by both the Bloody Baron and Nearly Headless Nick to carry a small white flag with me if I intended to venture through the barricades.

Well, that escalated quickly.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_- Spotted : A heart-to-heart that's long overdue. Clearly, the path of true love only runs smooth when paved with gold._

___- They say there's some strange things in the Forbidden Forest, but by far the strangest has to be the pile of school robes left among the trees last night. Talk about House unity!_

_- There's nothing sadder than the sight of a once-proud lion with no hope left to him. I know he never had much spine to start with, but hasn't he been punished enough?_

_- Hey there, Little H. Still looking for me? That was a nice try, but you're going to have to work a little harder than that! But that's what you're good at, isn't it? You try so hard, and make so many messes… isn't it time to give up?_

___xoxo GossipGhost_


	6. from the journal of lorcan scamander V

_Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. The Seven Necromantic Bells belong to the_ Old Kingdom Trilogy_ by Garth Nix.__ No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

As always, thank you to each and every single person who took the time to review. And a massive thank you to my friend and muse, **Jenn**, who once again gives voice to GossipGhost! We hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones**

six

_from the not-so-private journal of Lorcan Scamander, continued_

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_February 2, 2024_

Bizarrely, today's Transfiguration class was held in Professor Morgenstern's personal chambers instead of the usual classroom, due to the area now being official "Goblin" territory. Professor Morgenstern did not look impressed, and most of us could tell that he'd had a hard time of making enough room for us all, having pushed his work desk and his cupboard far up against the wall and piled his trunks on top of his bed.

"This is only until I can secure a new classroom – one that has _not_ been overrun by Potter's barricades."

Mary Collins from Hufflepuff raised her hand. "Can… can Professor Potter actually _do_ that?" she asked.

"He's not a real teacher," Professor Morgenstern snapped, as though that answered Mary's legitimate enquiry. (I do distinctly remember James boasting about a contract he signed at the beginning of the school year, however.) "Now open up your textbooks. No wandwork today while my personal possessions are around. Cabal, get back to your seat and don't touch that trunk!"

It was a rather sober lesson. Rose spent most of it fuming and passive-aggressively flicking through her textbook, clearly displeased with the accommodations. Professor Morgenstern, due to his stressed state, started teaching us the class content from a week prior. No-one corrected him, and he only realised himself once we were twenty minutes into the lesson. He stopped and glared around at all of us. "I wondered why you were all suddenly geniuses," he said, scowling.

Scorpius looked quite affronted.

Professor Otterburn entered the room unannounced halfway through the lesson, and looked startled to see us all there. "What, uh –" he said, glancing around. I waved at him, but I don't think he noticed.

"My classroom," Morgenstern explained tightly, "has been transformed into a base as part of the Goblin Rebellion reinactments, so I'm holding lessons in here. What do you want?"

Professor Otterburn's eyes flicked over to the cupboard. "…Nothing. Just… thought I might have left something here last time I – I'll come back later." He nodded at all of us. "Good day, students."

He left, presumably to race down to his own classroom to see if the Goblin Rebellions had overtaken his territory as well. I do hope they aren't – and if they are, then Professor Otterburn will be finding it quite difficult to teach his various Defence Against the Dark Arts classes in his personal chambers as well. I'm led to believe that is his only place of residence left since his wife sadly left him.

Professor Morgenstern dismissed us early from Transfiguration, although I suspect that had less to do with the kindness of his heart and more to do with Terrence Trent setting the curtains on fire.

_Later_

I hope Scorpius Hyperion and Rose Victoria bring Albus in on their little arrangement soon. They've clearly been holding off, as Albus didn't speak to them at all today during classes, and he spent lunch and dinner with Hugo on the Hufflepuff table, and hid in the Owlery for the evening. I know this last part because of two reasons: Lysander told me he'd seen Albus doing his homework there while attempting to scale the roof, and I caught Albus trying to scrub owl faeces off the hem of his robe in the bathroom, grumbling something about Scorpius "not even being an option for Rose".

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_- Spotted: A fascinating debate between two brilliant academic minds about the pros and cons of various privacy spells. Funny how much that resembles wrestling in a blanket fort. Our reaction? O. M. Gee!_

_- They say a Ravenclaw will do anything for extra credit, but aren't those only supposed to be _mock_ trials? _Someone's_ holding a grudge..._

- _I'd be lying if I said the Prefect's bathroom has always been used with pure intentions, but after last night's unauthorised escapade I doubt it'll ever be the same again. On a related note, could the owner of the blue… recreation device please apply to Moaning Myrtle? She doesn't have the item itself, but she's got a _lot_ of questions…_

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_February 10, 2024_

This morning's events were quite intriguing. I am not entirely sure I should be recording them, as my journal has a bad habit of disappearing into the hands of other people on a frequent basis, but as it has remained within my possession for a month I see no harm in recording this next part.

I was innocently reading in bed, my alarm for the morning not having gone off yet. Nathan and Rowan were already long gone from the dorm to pursue their Quidditch interests, leaving Scorpius and Albus in blissful passive-aggressive silence. Albus was doing his best to sleep in as late as possible without missing breakfast, and had gone so far as to cover his head with a few pillows in an effort to ignore Scorpius' company in the room.

As I was reading, I noticed Rose enter the dorm – and share a glance with Scorpius that can only be described as _mischievous_. They both were ignorant to my presence as together they crept up to Albus' bed, and sat down on either side of him. He made a muffled sound of surprise and battled the pillows over his head to see what was going on.

He groaned. "What do you want?" he grumbled, and Rose grinned.

"That's no way to greet me, Al."

He rolled his eyes, shot a dirty look at Scorpius – who was only smiling back – and tried to put his pillows back over his head.

Rose and Scorpius hindered this attempt, and there was a slight kerfuffle over it.

Finally Albus' patience snapped, and he said, "Go _away_, you two –!"

Scorpius silenced him by kissing him. (Admittedly, I at first thought he was attempting mouth-to-mouth resuscitation or trying to suffocate him, both of which confused me as Albus was not struggling for breath, nor had he done anything that I know of to warrant murder.) Whatever Scorpius was trying to do, he accomplished it: Albus fell silent, and stared at Scorpius when he drew back.

"…Um. Okay. I'm… I'm listening," he said weakly, and Scorpius grinned.

I shan't do them the disservice of recording the entire conversation in my journal. I will, however, record this:

"…so, Rose is sorry, but – if you want – we could be up for some pretty good money."

Albus seemed to be having a bit of trouble contemplating all of this.

"So," he said, trying to catch up, "Rose has _never_ been interested in you?"

"Well," Scorpius said, but Rose snorted and said, "Oh, please, me interested in _him_?"

"Hey," Scorpius protested weakly, and Rose ignored him.

"No," she insisted. "I'm sorry, Al. I just – I saw how close you two were getting over the summer holidays and I'd made my bet last year, and I couldn't risk losing that much money."

"And… Scorpius isn't interested in you."

Scorpius grinned and shook his head. "Wrong cousin."

The look he and Albus shared seemed to be touching upon some intimate waters, so I felt it necessary for me to remind them that I was still in the room. "Would you like some privacy?" I asked graciously, and the three of them yelped and swivelled around.

"Lorcan?" Scorpius cried. "What the – what are you doing here?"

"This is my bed and I've been here for most of the morning," I reminded him. "But you do realise I have been present for most, if not all, of your intimate encounters?" They stared at me. I closed my book and grabbed my bag. "Never matter. I am departing now to meet Lily Luna in the library."

(I am waiting on her now.)

None of them spoke until I was out of the dorm.

"I suppose we shouldn't mind," I heard Albus say reasonably. "He's asexual, after all. S'why he's never in the GossipGhost things – no scandal."

I am certainly above feeling offended.

Ah, here comes Lily – with her sketchbook, it seems! This shall be a most invigorating discussion.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_I don't know about you guys, but the first months of a new year can be so _dull_. Everyone's trying so hard to be good, keeping all those resolutions. Even our little soap opera has become suspiciously tame – and the bookies are starting to sweat._

_But as they say, time cures all ills, and it seems like secrets aren't the only parts of the past still catching up with us. The rude restructuring of our hallowed halls has overturned an ants nest of juicy little secrets, and as the future tiptoes nearer, who knows what might come to light?_

_I'd stay tuned if I were you._

_xoxo GossipGhost_

* * *

_Entry by Hugo Weasley_

_March 4, 2024_

Success! Well, kind of but not really but sort of. GossipGhost is Peeves! Sort of. I'll start from the start of today. I'd already crossed off a lot of people on my list (including but not limited to: Neville, James, Professor Robertson, and that painting of a cat on the third floor) but the one suspect that's remained constant for the past however many years has been Peeves. So Sam and I followed him today!

It's actually _really hard_ to follow a Poltergeist. They're not like ghosts, right? Peeves is literally a manifestation of school kids' emotions and stuff like that. A ball of pure mischief! He can go through walls if he wants, but he can also pick up stuff and make himself unseen. So he's the most likely candidate for GG, 'cept no-one's been able to prove it yet. Until today!

We started in the old Charms room, just sort of hiding behind the desks, 'cause that's where I'd heard his voice coming from because of my stethoscope. Peeves wasn't there, though, so it was mostly a matter of waiting. The portrait behind me kept on scoffing about "kids these days" and "why aren't they in class". Honestly, it was just History of Magic – if I missed anything important, I'm sure I'll be able to pick it up again by making my way through one of the barricades.

Sam, as usual, wasn't really that enthusiastic about us going on the hunt, and kept on changing the subject. "Come on, Hugo, just ask your uncle if you can borrow his Invisibility Cloak."

"Sam, if he hasn't given it to James yet, or Al, or Lily, or Teddy, he sure as hell isn't gonna give it to me." And even if he did give it to me, I wouldn't give it to Sam to sneak around the library.

"We could hunt for GossipGhost with it," he tried. Even I'm not that gullible. Usually.

"You only want it to sneak around the Restricted Section of the library."

Sam scowled. "S'not true."

I rolled my eyes where he couldn't see it, because the last time I rolled my eyes at him he didn't talk to me for a month. He can _really_ hold a grudge. "You don't _need_ to go to the Restricted Section."

'Course, there's a difference between _need_ and _want_. He thinks he needs necromancy, but he really just has a crazy-arse obsession with it. It's kind of like when I wanted to go to a Muggle school to help Livia stop feeling so left out, except not.

"Yes, I do," he insisted.

"Sam, please," I begged. "You'll get into trouble."

"So?" he said. "You get into trouble all the time."

"It's different."

He exhaled loudly. "Of course it's different – you're the quirky Hufflepuff with the famous Gryffindor relatives, so when you blow stuff up when you're trying to make your unholy Muggle-Magical technological hybrids, you just lose points and Hufflepuff disappears for a year, and everyone just stands around looking befuddled. Me? I'm the creepy screw-up Slytherin with the dead You-Know-Who supporter parents. If I was to go off and do half the things you do, I'd be suspended and moved to another foster home and the teachers here would treat me like a criminal. I know how it works, Hugo."

Well… okay, yeah. I can see how it might look like that to him. I felt really awkward about this, but I stayed on topic. "No, I mean, it's different because I'm just trying to make things for Livia. You're _trying to raise the dead_. It's a pretty big difference and it has nothing to do with my family or yours, and you know it."

He shrugged again. I really wanted to sock him in the jaw, but then I'd really get in trouble for that. "So, we're both trying to create stuff."

"Necromancy is outlawed for a _reason_. There's no _point_, Sam –"

"No point for you, maybe! You don't have anyone to bring back!" Sam gripped his hair tightly and looked at me, a bit manically. "Hugo, I could – I could bring back my parents."

His parents were FD supporters. His grandparents were Death Eater supporters. I feel really awful for saying this, but maybe they're not the best people to bring back. It sucks for Sam that he's got no family and he's being shoved between foster homes, but bringing his dead family back isn't going to help him.

I do kind of put my foot in it sometimes, but I know when _not_ to, and this was one of those times. Also I've put my foot in it before with Sam, and he can get really scary when he's upset with me. "It's wrong," I said instead. "No-one can, or should, bring back the dead."

"_I_ can."

I really hate it when he gets that look in his eyes. "Sam, what did you do?"

"Nothing." _Yet_, is what he didn't say. He glanced around and pulled off his bag, unzipped it, and withdrew a really old, really tattered copy of a paperback book. "Look, here."

I took the book obediently. "It's a Muggle book. You don't like Muggle stuff."

He snatched it back. "No, _look_. That year you disappeared, one of Livia's letters mentioned that Muggles sort of knew about magic and that they had funny ideas about it and wrote about it in their books –"

"You _were_ reading her letters! Sam –"

"It gave me an idea! Muggles do sort of know about magic – it's all part of their folklore, and they use it to tell stories to their kind. Not everything of theirs is based in fact, but – this is a Muggle fiction book about necromancy, and it's the best lead I've had. The plot's stupid as hell, all set in this fantasy world, but what's _really_ interesting is this part." Sam flicked it open and pointed at the page. "There – the bells. Seven Necromantic Bells."

"Are you sure?" I said dubiously. "The book _I_ read a few years ago seemed to be under the impression that a deal with the devil was what gave you necromantic powers."

"Fine, be that way," Sam snapped, and shoved the book back into his bag. "I know I'm on the right track. If I could find a book in the library that verifies what's in here, then – maybe I could find the Bells." He shrugged. "Or if you feel like a challenge, you could have a go at making them."

I didn't say anything to that, but he has _got_ to be kidding.

"Sam –" I started, then stopped and shook my head and sighed. If he hasn't listened to me in four years, then he never will. "Don't get caught. I lose points, but they'll throw you out of school if you try anything."

"Don't be stupid, I'm fifteen, no-one's tossing me out of school. Permanently, anyway."

And that was the end of that. No-one can say I didn't try. After that, he refused to talk any more about it and ignored me until I changed the subject back to GG. He said he'd help me if I didn't tell the teachers he was going to sneak into the library tonight. So I said yes, because I know he's going to get caught anyway, and I like having a friend with me for investigative work. Having Livia around would be the most awesome thing ever, but… you know, maybe another year, when or if I manage to invent that wand I've sketched out some plans for.

And then finally – "Shh! It's Peeves!"

He didn't come into the room, he just sort of bounced in the air past the door, laughing about something. He usually does that, but I personally thought he was more up to something than usual. So I followed my hunch and dragged Sam after me through the corridors, and eventually along the third. It's full of empty, long-abandoned classrooms. There's this story that goes around the students: that there used to be a giant three-headed dog along the third floor and it used to guard the ancient Basilisk that kept the "Sorcerer's" Stone in its belly. (Seriously, what is this, America?)

Uncle Harry's legacy got a bit mangled over the years. It makes me laugh, and as far as I know Rose and Al and James and Lily haven't corrected anyone yet. In fact, I'm pretty sure James is the one who added an extra part about the toad-like DADA teacher with Voldemort on the back of her head who's been kept captive by the Centaurs down there for a few decades. Although I reckon he only said that to scare the first years.

…Wow, I really tend to get off track a lot. GG again. I've _completely_ ruled out Snape's portrait as a suspect. He's a popular candidate with the students. He's a right sour arse but he has better things to be doing with his time, like secretly mentoring Albus and calling him names. Albus thinks he's being secretive when he talks to Snape's painting about potions, but Sam and I have passed him about three times this year already. I passed him again today as we made our way after Peeves, and he didn't even notice:

"…so, in regards to that Polyjuice Potion, the 48-hour one –"

"You are as impertinent and disruptive as your father!" Snape's painting snapped. "I was speaking. Take care not to interrupt me again."

"Sorry," Albus said, not sounding sorry at all.

Snape sneered. "The potion is inherently flawed in that it possesses no antidote to reverse the effects. Such a potion would be invaluable to undercover or infiltrative work, but if one was caught in a tight situation where their natural body was required, that person would be… in a rather arduous situation."

"There was no antidote to the original one-hour Polyjuice."

"Not a direct one, no; it only lasted for an hour."

"But presumably one could _be_ created –"

And so on and so forth. I didn't stay to listen. Potions are interesting, but even _I'm_ not such a big fan as to go to Snape for secret lessons. Eesh. Kudos to Al, I guess? At least we know what sort of career he's going to get himself after the NEWTs. Mum tells me I should start thinking seriously about my career and that "blowing up stuff" isn't a proper life choice. And – hang on, something's wrong.

…I… don't think this is my journal.

Let me check.

_Later_

Wow, okay, this is embarrassing. This isn't my journal. Sorry, Lorcan. I really have no idea how this happened.

…I'm going to finish the entry here anyway, okay? Don't worry, I didn't read anything else in here – don't have time to do that. Peeves disappeared into another empty classroom – the old Muggle Studies one, from when it was trashed back during the War. The door was locked. I was about to use an _Alohamora_ on it when Sam stopped me.

"You're the worst detective in the history of bad detectives!" he said. "You go in there, and Peeves will know you're on to him."

"So what am I supposed to?"

"Uh, listen in?"

Oh, yeah. I pulled out the stethoscope and stuck the earpieces in my ears, and flattened it against the stone wall. "Right, good idea. Good thing I brought the stethoscope."

"You mean your Extendable Ear."

"No, I mean my stethoscope." I gestured to it. "It's what Muggles use to listen to heartbeats. I modified it a bit – now it can pick up vibrations in the walls when people talk, so I can hear their conversations within a hundred metre radius. It can get a bit muddled though, if more than three or four people are talking nearby. It's not quite finished."

"…And it can hear through stone, can it?"

"Yep. The Extendible Ears need to go under doors."

"So you've got a listening device that can pick up vibrations of conversations from inside a sound-proof chamber over a hundred metres away."

He was being a bit slow, I guess. "Pretty much."

Sam stared at me. "You know what your problem is, Hugo?"

"Uh."

"You would have to be the dumbest smart person I've ever met."

I said 'thanks' at the time, but now I think he was insulting me.

"Haven't you ever thought of selling something like that?"

"Sell this old thing?" I asked, holding the stethoscope up. "Who'd want this?"

"The Ministry. Spies. FD. They'd pay a mint for something like that."

"It's a stethoscope, Sam."

He shook his head and let me get on with my eavesdropping. Peeves sounded absolutely gleeful. "_Found_," I heard him cackle, "_A cache of fascinating love letters. Considering who they're between, though?_ Ew!"

"I can hear him!" I hissed. "He's writing the GossipGhosts for this week!"

"So, it's Peeves. Whoop-de-doo."

But it didn't make sense. "But it can't be Peeves," I said. "I mean, it is – he's the one doing the writing – but who's he writing it for?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean –" I broke off and tried to think of a way to put it into words. "So, if GG was a student, they'd write it themselves, right? It's easy enough to disguise your handwriting – just use a spell, or write with your other hand or something. Or cut up bits of newspaper to make words. He's got to be writing it for a portrait or a ghost, I'm sure of it."

Sam didn't look interested, but I kept going.

"Peeves is a culprit, but not the mastermind!"

"This isn't going to be like those stories, is it? One clue leads to another clue and that clue leads to another, and another, and another, and there's never any treasure – just clues?"

I thought about it. "No, I'm pretty sure if I just follow Peeves around I'll find out who GG is."

"…Right, okay. So do we tell people?"

"Not yet."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Well, I'm going to the library."

"You've got class."

"So?"

Damn it, Sam.

And… that's it, really. Peeves is the one writing the GGs, but he's not making them up, I'm sure of it.

Anyway, I'll give this back to you when I see you next, Lorcan. Probably dinner, or tomorrow.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_- Found: A cache of fascinating love letters. Considering who they're between, though? _Ew_._

_- Everyone knows that the best place to hide something is in plain sight. But H, I'm not everyone, and this is one game of hide and seek you'll never win on your own. Maybe you should ask your slithersome friend for tips?_

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_March 24, 2024_

I am of course respectful of my journal's life choices, but I feel compelled to express my surprise and concern at its lack of protective measures and its faithlessness to its owner. I paid a slightly-more-than-reasonable amount for this glorified diary.

And 5th March was not yesterday, although presumably Hugo simply forgot he had this in his possession. I suppose I should be grateful he returned it to me at all.

_Later_

It seems even the teachers have given up on trying to control Lysander. My Potions class was disrupted today by my brother flying an enchanted carpet (courtesy of Hugo Martin) through the dungeons, and he crash-landed rather badly in the middle of it. Professor Robertson did not take points, or even give him a detention – she ignored him and left him there when the class was over. Rose certainly didn't bother to help him up, although she did lean over and ask him if she could borrow his quill. (He obliged.)

I stayed back after the class to talk to him once everyone else was gone. "Are you incapable of standing or is this another attempt at the melodramatic?" I inquired, very reasonably.

"You know what, Lorcan, I was right. You _have_ become progressively ruder over the years. Where's your diary? I haven't defaced it for a while."

"I am not in the habit of holding discussions with people who are lying on the floor unless I am lying on the floor with them."

Lysander waited expectantly.

"I have no intention of lying down on the floor with you."

He rose to his elbows and arched an eyebrow at me. "Fine, then you can just stand there and chat with me. Have you seen the latest copy of _Witch Weekly_?"

"I'm not sure whether to be amused or heartbroken that the _Witch Weekly_ features in your library."

"I've tried _everything_ to get her attention, Lorcan!"

Everything, which clearly included not only diving off the Astronomy Tower and flying enchanted carpets around, but subscribing to the _Witch Weekly_ for tips on how to be a boyfriend. "I don't suppose you've considered merely _talking_ to her," I suggested, but my brother is not one for taking my advice.

Observe: "What good will talking do?"

I imagined talking would do a great deal more than his death-defying antics, and I almost explained that until I remembered that Lysander was never especially well versed in the art of communication. It will simply have to be something he overcomes himself. I shrugged instead, and he looked bereft.

"I love her," he bemoaned.

Why he was telling _me_ that, I've no idea, since I already knew it and I was certainly not Rose Weasley.

Lysander was not impressed with my silent response to his heartfelt declaration. "Bah, what am I talking to you for, anyway? You're asexual."

"That's the third time someone has said that about me," I complained, but he ignored me. I withheld a long-suffering sigh and sat next to him on the floor. "Have you broken anything?"

He shifted his legs experimentally. "No, I think I'm okay. Just bruised." He rubbed his eyes. "And I think I just hit rock bottom."

I refrained from mentioning that when a protagonist of some such story utters that phrase at a low point in their lives, that point is ultimately revealed to _not_ be their "rock bottom", but rather a later, worse point is their "rock bottom". But as Lysander is not the protagonist of _my_ story, perhaps he will escape this particular trope. Instead I nodded sympathetically and watched as he tried to ease himself up off the ground, and failed.

"Lorcan, I can't get up. Help me?"

"You said you were only bruised."

"Bruises hurt."

Rose is right about him needing to grow a certain appendage or two. "I am not about to throw my own back out in an attempt to peel you off the floor."

"I'm not that heavy!"

"It is March, which means you have been gorging on chocolate in the lead-up to Easter."

He scowled. "Shut yer gob, tosser."

I sighed, stood up, and extended my hand to him to help him up. "I have no idea what you're saying when you devolve into Cockney."

"Cor, blimey."

"Stop that."

"Or what, you'll drop me?"

I maintain that my grasp on his hand merely slipped.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_- Spotted: Money changing hands in a discreet fourth-floor corridor. Clearly the _structural_ integrity of those barricades isn't the only kind in question._

_- Judging by the increase in tearful breakdowns, B and S have finally downgraded from screaming to scheming. Woe betide anyone who gets caught in _this_ crossfire..._

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_March 30, 2024_

This evening has been quite exhausting, but very productive. I resigned myself to the library before dinner, as I am wont to do, and managed to get in about half an hour of study prior to Lily Luna's appearance at my secluded study desk. "Lorcan!" she announced, dropping her bag beside the spare chair. "I've been looking for you and your finely sculpted arse for an hour now."

I bowed my head to her and put aside my quill. "My apologies, Lily, I was not expecting you. I thought perhaps you'd want to spend your evening with David Forster."

Lily shrugged. "No," she said. "We broke up last week."

"Oh, I'm – sorry to hear that," I said, completely honestly.

"It's okay, it wasn't really working out between us." Her tone was flippant, but her eyes lacked their usual daring gleam, replaced instead by something a little sad. "He doesn't care much for my independent study. He said I was wasting all my time on… stupid projects."

I completed the rest myself: and therefore not spending enough time with _him_. I could tell that he'd hurt her quite deeply by saying so, trivialising her incredible mind and work. If I possessed the physiology and the temperament, I should like to have a quiet word to Mister Forster about his appalling conduct. I reached out to take her hand. "Your research and passion is not wasting time, Lily," I said. "And they are certainly not stupid."

She smiled wryly. "Even though they come at the expense of my classes and marks?"

I might not have said so several years ago, but I do now. "Even though."

Lily exhaled, as though a weight had lifted from her. "Thank you, Lorcan. I don't even know why I'm so upset about David. I didn't like him that much. It's just… he's the second boyfriend I've chased away, you know."

"He is the second boyfriend who has not understood or appreciated you and your work." I touched her cheek. "The only opinion that matters is your own – no-one else's."

She glanced down. "Oh, I don't know – I hang out for yours."

I returned her smile. "And I yours."

We paused for a moment, watching each other, before I let my hand fall from her cheek and we pulled back at the same time. She grabbed her sketchbook, and I pushed my Arthimancy homework away from me. "So. I've been doing some thinking," she said, back to usual energetic business-like self.

"A dangerous pastime."

She winked at me, and I in no way at all flushed. How dare you accuse me of that.

"I may or may not have come into possession of some highly sought-after metals for the Time Turner casing."

I admit, I did blanch at that. "How?" I exclaimed.

"Well, I won quite a lot of money from the bet on the number of points Hugo lost last year, and it's not hard to buy gold jewellery…"

As it transpires, she has made the mold and melted the metals herself.

"And what, pray tell, is left for me to do?" I asked, and Lily laughed.

"You get to draw up the theory of it all!"

Ah, the fun part. "Speaking of theory – the temporal-displacement spell you created. I have been examining its properties."

I showed her my notes. She glanced at them, wide-eyed. "You wrote a small book on it."

I do not regret that my attendance record for History of Magic has declined in order to write the so-called 'small book'. "What you designed is quite incredible, Lily. You sent a horde of Cornish Pixies several years into the future – our subjective present – not by moving _them_, but by adjusting the time and space _around_ them."

The amount of power involved in such a spell is unfathomable, and I expressed my admiration. We _may_ have accidentally skipped dinner discussing the possibilities of such a spell. We parted ways after ducking down to the kitchens for some food – she returned to Gryffindor, and I made my way through the barricades (which had spread to the floor where the stairs to get to the Ravenclaw Tower start). Professor Longbottom is quite concerned with their exponential growth; yesterday I overheard him confiding to Professor Flitwick that he hopes the barricades do not encroach upon the Room of Requirement, as it is still "healing" itself from the Skirmish during the Battle of Hogwarts.

On my way through the barricades, I ran into Albus and Scorpius and Rose – who were fighting quite loudly.

I say "fighting" – I in fact mean they were putting on a show, because as soon as they caught sight of me they ceased and ensured no-one else was immediately around. I was not ignorant to the way Albus leaned against Scorpius.

"Lorcan, we missed you at dinner."

"I was pursuing some independent study," I explained. "Rose, are you joining us in our Common Room tonight?"

She grinned. "Of course. We have a show to put on!"

I have to wonder at times why she was not Sorted into Slytherin.

Scorpius pulled out a small white flag from his pocket. "Right, well, since we're all together – we might as well make our way through the barricades. Behind me!"

At least James' adamant students still have respect for those outside of class hours. We navigated our way through the barricades with relative ease, only to come across James himself in the corridors of the sixth floor, still teaching his students even though it was well on its way to curfew.

"…so in conclusion, the Goblin Rebellions were _pivotal_ in the establishment of the Statue of Secrecy due to the ramifications of a magical war affecting the delicate balance of Muggle-Wizard coexistence!" James shouted, straddling what looked to be lopsided bookcase. I wonder what happened to the books. I _sincerely_ hope they were not used for the bonfire I passed in the middle of the hallway. My tolerance for James' eccentricities will only extend so far.

"That's bollocks, James."

That was Johannes Cabal, who was looking painfully dishevelled and unhappy with the present circumstance. I've not had much to do with Mister Cabal in our years at Hogwarts together, but in the several times I've been in his company, he has seemed a rather delightful fellow – very intelligent, and one of James's more avid students.

"Professor Potter to you, Mister Cabal!" James reminded him. Johannes rolled his eyes.

"_Professor Potter_, it's total bollocks! The Goblin Rebellions were _clearly_ orchestrated by the Ministry. What better way to convince Muggles to burn witches when a troop of Goblins charged through their houses, therefore perpetuating anti-Muggle sentiments that would last for –?"

"As usual, Johannes, you are grossly oversimplifying the issue and your hypothesis! I don't care what your stance on this is, but if you don't back your statements up with examples, you'll barely scrape an 'A' in my class."

"It's a bit hard to spout off an essay with correct facts when I've been trapped in this damn barricade for three days straight, you nutjob!"

"Don't make me deduct points!"

"Deduct whatever you want, I'm defecting to the Goblins' side!" I watched as Johannes clambered over the top of the pile of chairs – which started to sway precariously – and jumped down on the other side. "At least _they_ have the library and the kitchens in their territory!"

"_Traitor!_" James shouted. "Ten points from Slytherin! And your conspiracy idea is lame!"

"_You're not even a real teacher, James!_"

We did not stay for the fallout.

"…Should we be worried?" Scorpius murmured, shoving his white flag into his pocket once we'd all reached the bottom of the staircase.

"Nah," Albus said. "It'll blow over in a week."

* * *

Posted on the Hogwarts general noticeboard:

_- Lost: The dignity of a certain Norse charmer. Last seen embedded in the floor of the Astronomy Tower. If found, please return to the Slytherin common room. (L, you need to pick your battles more carefully, honey.)_

_- Everyone loves a good star-crossed romance, but there is such a thing as overdoing it. Put the Draughts of Living Death away. You know who you are, all sixteen of you._


	7. correspondence II

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones**

seven

_correspondence_

_March 31, 2024_

Harry,

Okay, I know you said that James' obsession with the barricades would blow over? But either you don't know your own son or you're lying, because half of the school is now official "war territory" (and my personal chambers are barricaded by the "Goblins") and the Headmaster resigned yesterday because of the stress. I'm the temporary Headmaster while the Board of Governors tries to find someone else, but good luck to them because I don't know anyone who's willing to take charge of a school overrun by fake wars led by your deranged son. Oh, and since I'm temporary Headmaster, Otterburn is looking after my Herbology classes. _Otterburn_. Do you have any idea how much pride it cost me to ask an old Herbology rival to take over for me? It'd be like me forcing you to ask Malfoy to become the Head Auror in your place – it just isn't something people _do_, Harry.

I'm basically just asking you to get James back under control. And no, I can't fire him, because I'm pretty sure he'd ignore me anyway and keep teaching, and as much as I hate to admit it, he does have the entire school interested in History of Magic. My only consolation in all of this mess is that at least his students will have the best exam results for that class seen in Merlin knows how many years.

Just _please_ talk to him before he turns the Greenhouses into trenches – I'm growing some really rare specimens in there. Or at least I _was_, until I was forced to ask _Otterburn_ to take over!

Neville

* * *

_April 2, 2024_

James,

So, I just got a letter from the new Headmaster of Hogwarts. I did some pretty outrageous things in my day, but I can assure you I was never directly responsible for a Headmaster's resignation. You promised you wouldn't let your barricades get out of control. It's great that you're being a passionate teacher and all, but would you please tone it down? Or at least consider channelling your energies into writing a book?

Dad

PS: Don't touch Neville's greenhouses. I mean it, James. He seems a bit on edge.

* * *

_April 4, 2024_

Dad, I'm pretty sure you were responsible for Snape throwing himself out of a window back in 1998. And as for that suspiciously oppressive tone of yours, I have only one thing to say:

REVOLUTION!

James

* * *

_April 5, 2024_

James,

1. You've taken the Snape thing out of context;

2. It was completely different and you know it; and,

3. Please don't do what I think you're going to do.

Dad

PS: Did you even properly read my last letter? For the love of Merlin, _don't touch Neville's greenhouses_. I've seen what he can do with a sword and you're already on his bad side as it is.

* * *

_April 6, 2024_

Miss Livia Malfoy  
Ravenswood College, Old Church Road  
Pembury, Tunbridge Wells  
Kent TN2 4AX, England

Dear Livia,

So, Easter's coming up! I think my family is having yours over for the break for a couple of days, so it'll be really great to see you again. Things at Hogwarts are… weird. I'm sure Scorpius has already told you, but in case he hasn't, James has made barricades _everywhere_ and half of the school is fighting in a re-enactment of the Goblin Rebellions. Although I did see a French flag in the Great Hall the other day, so it's possible he's progressed or something.

I've had _great_ progress with GossipGhost! Sam and I (well, just me really, Sam whined the whole time) found out who's been writing the GGs that get stuck on the general Hogwarts noticeboard. It's Peeves! Which was pretty anticlimactic when you think about it, because everyone reckoned it was Peeves, but I'm still positive he's writing it for someone else. So, I've been trying to follow him around but it's been hard because I keep getting lost in the barricades and I shouldn't miss classes.

How are things at Ravenswood going? You don't talk much about your friends there – do any of the other girls know about magic?

More seriously… I'm really worried about Sam. His obsession with raising the dead has gotten kinda frightening. He's missed so many classes in the past few weeks. I don't know if I should tell a teacher or not. At least I know he can't buy anything dangerous. I'm pretty sure he's spent all the money he won last year from a bet.

Hope to hear from you soon!

Love,

Hugo

* * *

_April 6, 2024_

Hey Marian,

This letter is just for you, okay? Please don't let Dad see this.

I hope you're doing well. Sorry I've been slow with the letters lately – I've been trying to study for my NEWTs. (The final exams things.) It's been a bit hard with all the barricades over the school, but we're coping. I don't suppose Ravenswood or any of the other Muggle schools you taught at had barricades in the corridors?

So… okay. This is awkward to write, but… I want to tell Dad, except I'm not sure how he'll take it. I really want to tell someone, but my mother hasn't really been part of my life for several years now, so… the thing is, I'm in love with Albus. I mean, yeah, I was dating Rose for a bit (and still pretending to – don't worry, she knows) but Albus and I are together. And I don't know if I should tell Dad, or how he'd take it if I do.

Please don't tell him – I just wanted to tell you, and ask if you think I should tell him. And if I should tell him, then _what_ I should say. I'm sorry to bother you with this, it's just I don't really know who else to write to.

Thank you,

Scorpius

* * *

_April 8, 2024_

Dear Scorpius,

Well, I had to wrestle your letter out of your father's hand once I saw it was only for me, but rest assured he didn't see a single word. (I may have also threatened him with Hadrian's toilet-training duties for the rest of the month.) I'm very well, thank you, and don't worry, we know you've been busy studying. I imagine it would be a bit distracting having barricades all over the school. I can't say that any school I ever taught at supported large-scale re-enactment of wars for class material, although to be completely honest I originally just assumed the barricades were normal for Hogwarts.

I'm honoured you told me, Scorpius. I think it's wonderful that you and Albus are together, and it's wonderful that you've told someone. I know I'm not your mother, but I love you very much and I'm very proud of you. For what it's worth, I think Draco will take the news just fine. Have faith in your father – if he can cope with having a non-magical daughter, and if he had the nerve to marry a Muggle, then I'm sure he'll be fine with you and Albus. And if he isn't, then I promise to give him a sharp slap across the face.

I look forward to seeing you again at Easter – you're much missed by your father, Hadrian, and me.

Much love,

Marian

* * *

_April 10, 2024_

FORWARD TO:  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Hugo Weasley  
Weasley House, St. Andrew's Road  
Avon, Portbury  
Somerset BS24 9AY, UK

Dear Hugo,

I can't wait to see you at Easter! It's been far too long. You'll have to tell me more about these barricades that James is building. I do hope he knows what he's doing – it all sounds rather outrageous to me, but I wish I could be there at Hogwarts with you to see it for myself. I have a fondness for the French Revolution myself! We've been learning about it in History, but Ravenswood probably wouldn't like it if someone started building barricades in the halls.

Peeves? That is a little anticlimactic, but I look forward to hearing your theories on who the other person it is that he's writing the GossipGhosts for.

Ravenswood is just fine, thank you for asking. It's… not as exciting as Hogwarts, but I suppose you might have guessed that. English is still my favourite subject, and Marian helps me with any class content I'm not strong on.

My friends are fine too. There's a girl called Emily, who sleeps on the bed next to me in my dorm. She's nice – very quiet and very serious, but she likes me because I listen to her (she gets homesick very frequently), and I'm more or less guaranteed her vote for when the votes for Class Captain comes around. (Sort of like a practice Prefect, but without the large responsibilities – and if I'm voted in as Class Captain then I have more of a chance for becoming a Prefect in two years.)

As far as I know, none of the other girls know about magic. I did try to slip in a few hints into conversations last year – such as mentioning Beedle the Bard – but I think I'm the only one here. So I doubt I'll ever have any of my Muggle acquaintances over for our joint family Christmas dinners.

If Samael Glyde makes you worried, then perhaps you should tell a teacher. It sounds like he'll probably get caught on his own, if he keeps his horrid behaviour up, but if he ever scares you or threatens you with anything, you need to tell someone. All right?

I'll see you at Easter, Hugo. Keep safe until then!

Love,

Livia

* * *

_April 14, 2024_

Cobb & Webb's  
13A Knockturn Alley  
London

Hello sir,

As per our previous correspondence, I would like to purchase the Bells and the book. Enclosed is the agreed price. I've also arranged with BUNDLE to make the delivery, so once you receive the payment a person from BUNDLE will collect my package.

Thanks,

Samael G.

* * *

_April 17, 2024_

Hi there, Samael Glyde!

Blundershire's Universally Notable Deliverer of Letters and Entities, running since 1336 and delivering in rain, hail, or shine, has collected your package from Cobb & Webb's today, so you can expect it delivered to you by tomorrow!

We are delighted to be of service to you, and thank you for choosing BUNDLE!

Regards,

The BUNDLE Team

* * *

_April 18, 2024_

Harry – why in the name of Merlin has James upgraded his barricades to the French Revolution? _I asked you to tell him to tone it down. IF HE TOUCHES MY GREENHOUSES, IT'LL BE YOUR FAULT. I'M SERIOUS, HARRY._


	8. from the journal of lorcan scamander VI

_Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones**

eight

_from the not-so-private journal of Lorcan Scamander, continued_

_Entry by Rose Weasley_

_April 22, 2024_

…Lorcan? I have several choice words to share with you when I see you again. I honestly have no idea whether to laugh or strangle you. I'm going to go with laugh, because I can't afford to go on trial for murder with the NEWTs, even though you completely had it coming. (Just you wait until _after_ the exams.)

Okay, maybe murder is a bit extreme. And I haven't read everything in your journal, because there's an awful lot to get through and that's an invasion of privacy (even though it seems like everyone and their mother has read and written in your journal!) and I do have some boundaries. But I will say – good _grief_, Lorcan, you seem so quiet in day-to-day life!

Like numerous people before me, I don't know how your diary ended up in my trunk. I have a feeling Lysander had something to do with it, since he had a habit of stealing it earlier this year, but I must have accidentally grabbed it before he could draw more penises in it. I honestly don't know why anyone puts up with him anymore. That last day, before Easter break, when he used suction caps to crawl along the ceiling? Ridiculous. It's not even that amusing anymore. I wish he _had_ just asked me out at the beginning of the year – because at this rate, even if he does ask me out sometime soon, I… honestly don't know what my reaction will be. I think he likes danger seeking and melodrama more than he wants to ask me out.

Anyway.

Since you're away in Australia catching Snorffles or Cackhounds or magical dingos or something with your family, I might as well recount part of the break for you. I don't have a diary myself, as I prefer to spend my time actually studying instead of writing about studying, but… well, it's Easter, and you're going to want this in your diary. (I noticed that you're suspiciously fond of reporting on the Ravenclaw soap opera. You know, I really have to wonder if you aren't GossipGhost, Lorcan.)

This was yesterday:

It was a general get-together/dinner at my parents' place. Again. Seriously, we have _so many_ of those. But I'm well used to them by now, so it was business as usual, except for the part where I had to reassure Scorpius into sticking with his plan to come out to his family. (I.e. Mr Malfoy.) He'd been worrying himself sick over it for the last week – constantly stressing about whether or not he should tell his father, and if he did then what his father's reaction would be. I was convinced it would be just fine. I mean, we've all heard the stories about Mr Malfoy when he was at Hogwarts with all our parents, and he – well, he was not the nicest of people. But if in between then and now, he has not only happily supported and raised a non-magical daughter who received Muggle schooling, become very close friends with my dad, and married a Muggle woman who gave birth to his half-blood Malfoy son, then I was absolutely certain he'd take Scorpius and Albus in a stride.

The 'confrontation', as it was, happened after dinner when most of the rest of the family went back to their respective homes. I think at that stage only the Malfoys, Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry, and Uncle George and numerous redhead cousins were around. Mr Malfoy was talking with my father, something about FD groups popping up around England (again), when Scorpius and Albus decided to do the reveal.

Mr Malfoy noticed them standing there awkwardly and paused his chat with Dad. "Yes?" he asked.

Scorpius faltered, but then I gave him a firm shove forward. He staggered a bit and turned around to glare at me, but then righted himself and clutched Al's hand bravely. "Go on!" I said.

"Dad," Scorpius said, presumably before he could chicken out (a Gryffindor he is not), voice shaking a little, "I have to tell you something."

Mr Malfoy looked wary. "You do?"

"Yes."

"Right now?" he said. "Instead of, say, in nine days?"

Scorpius frowned. "No, right now."

Mr Malfoy's eyes flicked down to Scorpius' and Al's joined hands. "Okay, look, before you do anything rash, make absolutely certain that you –"

"We're together."

Mr Malfoy stared, then let out a muffled curse. "Scorpius!"

Scorpius flinched, but raised his head. "I don't care what you think. I –"

"Nine days! You couldn't wait _nine more days_ to come out?"

Beside him, Dad doubled over, wracked with laughter. "Bwhwhhaa—" he cackled, struggling for air. "Malfoy, you – you owe me – oh Merlin –"

"Laugh it up, Weasel!"

Scorpius and Albus stared, and the rest of the family either started to laugh or groan and pull out bags of Galleons.

"_You owe me so much money –_"

Mr Malfoy threw a bag of Galleons at Dad's chest, and Dad staggered backwards, clutching the bag, still cackling. "I'm _rich_," he crowed, and Mum just shook her head. I figured it probably wouldn't be a good time to tell her – or anyone – that I'm going to get very rich myself in the first week of May.

"So… you're okay with it?" Scorpius said weakly, and Mr Malfoy sighed and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Scorpius," he said, sounding very tired and long-suffering, "I'm okay with it because you're my son and I love you, and I'm okay with it because you didn't choose a redhead which means you're at least _subconsciously_ still thinking of the upholstery. I just really – _really_ – wish you'd waited until the beginning of May."

Scorpius tried to look nonchalant, but I could tell he was on the verge of tears. Happy tears, that is. "Well, I'm glad my love life is a source of income for you," he drawled.

"You mean a source of income for _Weasley_."

Scorpius clearly couldn't hold himself back anymore, because he hugged his dad tightly. Mr Malfoy hugged him back, and nodded at Albus who was waiting to the side. "Just don't adopt any redheaded children," Mr Malfoy said sternly when Scorpius pulled back and re-joined Albus. "Bad enough Hugo has that unfortunate colour –"

"Draco, you have plenty of time to plan for interior redecorating before Livia and Hugo –" Marian started to say, obviously just to humour him, but Mr Malfoy interrupted her.

"But the curtains, Marian. Think of the _curtains_."

I really adore Marian. She gave him a look – you know, the kind of look only a wife can give her husband – and said, "If you can readily bet a hundred galleons with Ronald over your son's sexuality then I'm sure changing the upholstery won't be out of pocket for you." Then she passed Hadrian over to Mr Malfoy so she could go and help Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry serve up the tea and coffee. Hadrian started to laugh, because babies do that and Hadrian is one of the giggliest babies I've ever known.

"What are you laughing at?" Mr Malfoy demanded of his son. "There aren't any more Potters or Weasleys left for _you_ to fall in love with."

"Well, actually, Mr Malfoy," I said, "if you count all of my cousins –"

Mr Malfoy covered Hadrian's ears. "_Don't. Give him. Ideas._"

In all honesty, I think he's just happy that it wasn't me and Scorpius – because if it really was us together, I'm pretty sure he'd make me dye my hair blond or something atrocious like that.

So that was yesterday, and we'll be back at school soon. I'm not as bad as Hugo – I'll give this to you as soon as I see you, and then I intend to properly submerse myself in studying for the NEWTs. They're so _close_ to us, Lorcan! I hope you've been studying and encouraging Lily to study for her OWLs instead of spending time fiddling around with impossible Time Turners.

And I'm still going to share a few choice words with you. You are _not_ off the hook.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_As the school year draws to a close and certain barricades show no signs of shifting, it's nice to know that at least some things are capable of changing..._

_Our favourite soap opera, for instance, has finally broken that bizarre and frustrating holding pattern! Congratulations to all the various winners, whose faith in the blindness of eagles finally paid off._

_Other couples are perhaps not so lucky - after the Somme Mud Incident I really don't think anyone will be giving B the time of day, poor lamb. Although if she and S want to sell tickets to a reenactment, I've no doubt they'll get plenty of takers..._

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_May 1, 2024_

Is it too late for me to consider putting a lock on my journal?

Rose Victoria did indeed share a few choice words with me, but nothing terribly severe. By the time today came by, she'd greatly cooled down and forgiven my 'gossip-like tendencies' and suggested I ought to consider not recording other peoples' personal lives in my journal. She is convinced that GossipGhost has been pulling bits of gossip out of my journal. I do hope that is not the case.

At any rate, I thank Rose Victoria for her faithful record of the events at the Potter/Weasley and Malfoy dinner. I almost regret missing it now. _Almost_. Australia was most exhilarating. Although we were not searching for dingos, which have no magical properties. The blue-ringed octopi, on the other hand…

_Later_

Albus Severus and Scorpius Hyperion officially "came out" today as a couple at Hogwarts.

It was, admittedly, a little anticlimactic for me, as I've been a close observer of the drama since the start. As such, I was not nearly as shocked as most of the students at breakfast when Albus and Scorpius entered the Great Hall with their arms linked to announce their union.

I don't dare imagine the loss my brother has endured with his poor betting choices.

"Wait, wait, wait," Lysander said, spluttering and gaping at Rose who was cashing in her profits. "So her and Scorpius – that was _fake?_ They were all in it _together?!_"

I do not know whether he'd have felt better or worse if I told him Rose manipulated events first, and the two boys were recruited a little later. Probably worse. I wisely kept silent.

"You rigged it!" James accused, and Rose just shrugged and continued to collect her money.

I really do wonder why she was not Sorted into Slytherin.

_Later again_

It is approaching midnight, but I'm far too intellectually stimulated at present to consider resting. I must record this. After dinner, I was once more in the library – one of the few places left in Hogwarts (aside from the Headmaster's office, the greenhouses, and the Room of Requirement) that remains untouched by James' historical antics. Lily, as usual, found me:

"Thought I'd find you here! Hiding from the barricades, or from the Ravenclaw soap opera?"

"Good evening, Lily," I said, straightening. "Both, as a matter of fact – and a most happy birthday to you."

"Sweet sixteen," she drawled with a wink. "I got your letter over the break – thank you!"

"You're welcome. Did you receive agreeable gifts from your friends and family?"

"Well, Mum put a ban on anything that could be considered 'dangerous', so I mostly got books, but they're all pretty good reads. And Uncle Percy bought me a book on time travel! Can you believe it?"

"He does seem to be rather encouraging your area of study," I observed.

"He's a cool uncle."

That is not the description I'd heard Albus Severus and James Sirius apply to Unspeakable Percy Weasley. Associative words usually include "boring" and "stuffy", and although I myself am not a close acquaintance of Percy Weasley (is anyone, really?) I do find him reasonably affable, if understandably distant.

"Well, sometimes," Lily amended in response to my contemplative silence. "I saw him and Aunt Audrey and my cousins over the break – a bit unusual, since he's always locked up in the Ministry and they do a lot of their own stuff – but I managed to ask him about a possible hourglass being made by the Department of Mysteries…"

I sat forward in interest. "Oh?"

"Oh indeed," Lily said. "Percy didn't say much since it's all 'classified' and whatnot, and _how did you even hear about the set of hourglasses anyway, Lily, I hope I don't have to have a word to your mother_, but get this – it's not just _an_ hourglass, it's a _set_ of hourglasses. More than one!"

And we have been building three Time Turners – one for her, one for me, and a spare. We've almost completed the tiers and initial charms and will soon commence on the chain, with only the hourglasses beyond our available resources at Hogwarts. I made a move to speak and admit my fascination with the subject, but Lily shushed me by placing a finger over my lips, and she glanced around. "But we'll talk about this later when we're properly alone. I don't want anyone eavesdropping on this."

I can imagine why, and I quite agree: whilst I do not believe discussing secret Department of Mysteries projects is illegal, I personally do not fancy a visit (or a mind-wipe) from the Unspeakables. In the past we _used_ to be 'properly' alone in the library, but it is more and more becoming a safe-haven for the students who do not wish to participate in the French Revolution.

"So, the book – Percy gave it to me after the dinner where Mum couldn't see. I have it in my trunk – come back with me to my dorm tonight and I'll lend it to you. It's by the same guy who wrote _Infinitisms of the Temporal Dimension_."

I'd no idea he'd authored a second book on time travel. "That is very thoughtful of you, Lily, but I could not possibly borrow from you a book you've not yet finished reading, let alone one gifted to you on your birthday," I said.

She rolled her eyes. "Lorcan, I see you every day in the library anyway. But we could read it together, if you'd prefer?"

I confess, I was not opposed to the idea. I agreed. She pulled out our Time Turners – at that point the basic three-tier structure – and set them out to begin performing our charms. It probably was not entirely safe to do so in the library, I realise now, but I can reliably report we did not cause any fires and/or explosions. Lily has a penchant for creating havoc, but she is also very good at the utmost precision and delicate wandwork. I rolled up my sleeves for the spells, revealing my reddened skin to her.

"Is that a sun burn?" she asked, glancing down.

"It is, and I've no idea how I received it as not only was it autumn in Australia, but I made certain to wear protective clothing to prevent this."

Lysander, predictably, did not receive any sort of burn whatsoever.

"You should get Al to make you a salve," Lily said, gently pressing her fingers to the burn on my forearm. Her touch was rather soothing. "Where did you go to exactly, anyway?"

"Jervis Bay – a small magical community on Australia's East Coast."

"Ooh, nice."

I try not to make a habit of building up suspense for the mere sake of it, but I had been looking forward to revealing this next part to her all night. "I took the liberty," I said, "whilst there, to collect the sand."

"Sand?" She raised her eyebrows, clearly amused. "I've heard of rock- and shell-collecting hobbies, but sand's a new one."

I could not help but hide a grin. "This will intrigue you, Lily," I said. "The sand on Hyams Beach is considered to be the whitest and finest sand in the world – and is considered to have magical properties."

Lily caught on very quickly. "…Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

I responded by pulling out a small bag of the specimen and passed it to her. Lily took immense care not to spill it, despite her obvious excitement; she delicately opened the drawstring and used her wand to withdraw several grains. "Lorcan, this… this is amazing."

"It was no trouble," I said. "While my strength in this partnership lies primarily in the theoretical analytics of our work, I realised that you would not be able to continue your work during the Easter break at home, nor here at school, and we both lacked previous access to an element for the Time Turners. So I took the liberty of collecting another property of our work. I think this sand shall be… perfect."

She was enamoured. "It's _beautiful_."

"It's only sand," I said wryly, but she closed the drawstring and launched herself at me for a hug. I managed to catch her before we both toppled to the ground due to the force. "We should be able to enchant it using your time-displacement spell –"

"I refined it over Easter!" she said breathlessly, pulling back but still gripping my arm. "In theory, that is – you'll need to look over it for inconsistencies first. Help me finish enchanting the tiers?"

"Of course," I said, and we commenced our mutual wandwork.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_- V, just because you're a Sergeant at Arms, doesn't mean you're King of the Barricade. Keep your head down before you need another eyepatch._

_- Spotted: The third years' favourite space cadet getting his arse kicked yet again. You need to calm down, honey - White's a Healer, not a miracle worker!_

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_May 7, 2024_

Today was puzzling, but I'm beginning to realise that what I would usually consider 'puzzling' is now commonplace. It's disorientating. The Gryffindors, at least, are enjoying the history lessons. They have taken to the spirit of the French Revolution very keenly, under James' lead.

"_Do you hear the people sing? Singing a song of angry men! It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again –!_"

"I didn't think the French Revolution was part of magical history," I mused out loud.

"It's not," Rose grumbled. "Uncle Harry inadvertently gave him the idea."

Albus, Scorpius, Rose, and myself, had been making our way to our Charms class, passing through the Great Hall. Usually we would take a shortcut through the corridors, but one of the main staircases is blocked off. And we were in no rush to get to class anyway; Professor Flitwick was missing from our last lesson, and rumour has it he is trapped on the seventh floor with his first year Charms class from last week. If nothing else, his first year students will be very well educated in the subject of Charms and European history.

Along the way to one of the exits, we ran into Hugo Martin and Samael Glyde who were also on their way to a class.

"Guys!" Hugo said, looking very relieved. No-one dared ask about the splinters all over his robe. "Can we stick with you until we get through the barricades?"

"Yes…" Rose said warily. "But –"

She was interrupted – quite rudely – by a non-student, who emerged from the cover to our left. He was looking as battered as Hugo no doubt felt, and his uniform (which I recognised as a delivery service) had been decorated by French Revolution trinkets.

"Afternoon!" the man announced. "I'm Rufus from Blundershire's Universally Notable Deliverer of Letters and Entities, running since 1336 and delivering in rain, hail, or shine!" Then he held out a battered package in front of him and squinted at the name on it. "I got a package here for Sam-A-El Glyde."

Rufus from BUNDLE held out the abnormally large package, which Samael lunged for and grabbed. "I ordered this almost three weeks ago!" he snapped, cradling it to his chest as though it were a most precious cargo. "BUNDLE promised overnight delivery!"

"An' I got here almost three weeks ago but I couldn't find you in all the barricades, now could I?" Rufus from BUNDLE looked around, clearly befuddled by the extreme teaching tactics of our esteemed History of Magic professor. "I don't remember any barricades when I was at school. What's goin' on anyway, World War One?"

"Those were trenches," I helpfully corrected, while Rose snapped, "Don't give him ideas –!"

But alas, James heard:

"The French Revolution!" James shouted from across the Hall, but then appeared to be struck by sudden inspiration. "But now that you've mentioned it, good sir, I might just have to tweak the syllabus a teensy bit more –"

"Oh, Merlin, no," Rose muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose as if in sudden mental pain.

Rufus from BUNDLE scratched his head. "Is there an easier way to get out of 'ere than through the main entrance?" he asked.

"You could try scaling down the Astronomy Tower," I suggested.

Rufus from BUNDLE did not like this suggestion, and shrugged and said he'd make his own way out. He nodded at Samael. "Thank you for choosing Blundershire's Universally Notable –"

"Yeah, yeah!" Samael snapped, and poor Rufus from BUNDLE looked affronted. He left. I have no idea if he ever ended up making it out of the castle. Once Rufus from BUNDLE had disappeared into the barricades, we all turned to face Samael, who shoved his package – badly – into his robes to unsuccessfully avoid the stares.

"What've you got there, Glyde?" Scorpius asked, faux-politely. Scorpius is not a fan of Samael, most likely due to the young man's inappropriate conduct with Miss Livia's letters the year Hugo disappeared.

Sam clutched the large package under his robes to his chest protectively. "Just something I ordered."

Hugo looked worried. "Sam…"

"C'mon, we've got class. I'll find my own way out."

Samael took off, and Hugo looked around at us and shrugged. "I'd… better go after him," he said.

"Hugo, you don't have to hang around him if it makes you uncomfortable," Rose said sternly.

"I know that!" Hugo snapped. "That's why I've been looking for GossipGhost, because I don't – never mind. I need to get to class. See you guys later."

He left after Samael, leaving us feeling disconcerted.

"I really worry about that Glyde kid sometimes," Albus said. "If he doesn't watch himself, he'll be getting a one-way ticket to that behavioural rehab school that's popped up in Plymouth."

I'm afraid I rather worry for Samael, too.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_- M and O are at it again...now the question is, how does a certain official-looking letter fit in?_

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_May 13, 2024_

I do feel sorry for Professor Longbottom. I have a daunting suspicion that his 'temporary' Headmaster post is looking increasingly permanent, as it seems with every passing day we are no closer to getting a new Headmistress or Headmaster than we were almost two months ago. The intense escalation of James' history lessons has put something of a taboo on a Hogwarts teacher position.

As it is, Professor Longbottom has several things on his mind, including but not limited to his greenhouses and his displeasure that Professor Otterburn has taken over responsibilities. I overheard him today in the library with Professor Robertson.

"Really worried…" he was murmuring. "The Room of Requirement has stopped healing itself…"

"…barricades haven't touched it?" Professor Robertson asked.

"No – and even if they did, they wouldn't stop the Room from fixing itself. Must be something else –"

"How many years does it take for that place to heal, anyway?"

"Clearly more than twenty-six!" Professor Longbottom snapped, but I do not think he meant to be rude to Professor Robertson; he is merely concerned for the wellbeing of his school and his greenhouses, which thankfully have not yet been claimed as territory by the Allied or Axis powers.

_Later_

Well, that was… strange. I admit that the previous hour was not the most peculiar of my life, but it may just have to be placed up there. I can barely even recall the conversation that led into it, but I'm certain it had something to do with my friends discussing the people who starred in the GossipGhosts, and analysing why I never featured in them. My best guess is that I simply have not done anything scandalous enough to warrant a mention on the GossipGhosts, but my friends and my brother were most convinced that it had more to do with my lack of romantic life.

I attempted to offer my hypothesis, but I went ignored. Lily patted my arm sympathetically and kept me company in my silence while my friends debated my sexual orientation.

"Don't worry, Lorcan, there's no need to be ashamed of your sexuality," Albus assured me, once he remembered I was actually present.

"Or lack thereof," Scorpius added, and Rose looked at him with disapproval.

I frowned at all of them. "I realise that there is no shame whatsoever in being asexual, but I do not understand why people keep saying _I_ am asexual."

Lysander blinked at me. "Because you… are?"

I stared at him, and everyone stared back at me. It was most disconcerting.

"…I mean, we just assumed that – well, you've never shown any interest in anyone!"

It did not escape my notice how quickly my brother's fumbling attempts to smooth over an awkward situation turned into defensive accusations. I decided to help him out. "I was in a relationship with Yolanda Liu for most of the previous school year," I said.

"Bullshit," he said, then turned around in his seat and called out over to the Ravenclaw table. "Hey, Yolanda! _Yolanda!_"

"A bit of decorum, if you please," I said, but if my brother has not yet taken my advice in eighteen years then I doubt he will begin to now.

"_Yolanda! Come here for a sec!_"

Yolanda looked at her friends apologetically and parted ways with Nathan Nightingale, and approached us. "Yes, Lysander?" she said, sounding very long-suffering. I suppose as a Prefect she has been attempting to keep the school in order as best she can.

"Lorcan says you dated him last year!" Lysander said accusingly.

She glanced at me. "Not that it's any of your businesses, Lysander," she said, "but yes. Lorcan and I did date."

Lysander seemed temporarily incapable of speech, so I spoke on his behalf. "I apologise for bothering you, Yolanda," I said, and her gaze softened as she looked at me.

"It's fine, Lorcan. See you later."

As soon as she left hearing range of us, Rose turned to me and smacked my shoulder. "Why didn't you tell us?" she asked.

"You never asked."

Lily, I noticed, had not said a single word this entire conversation.

"But –" Lysander spluttered, and Albus and Scorpius just looked bewildered. I really had no idea my sexuality was of such concern to these people. Perhaps I am more of an enigma than I imagined myself to be.

"I realise I may appear to be above such base desires," I said, "but I assure you that my orientation is heterosexual."

Lysander shook his head. "Wow. Okay. My perception of the world just shifted uncomfortably."

"Should I apologise?"

"No, you suck at apologies. I'm just going to try and… cope, somehow."

He remains, as always, my beloved and melodramatic brother.

Lily, at this point, still had not said a word. I turned to her, most concerned, as she usually has one opinion or another to contribute. "Lily, are you all right?"

"Me?" she said. "Yes, I'm fine! I just need to go and – create havoc somewhere. See you later!"

She disappeared, presumably to create havoc somewhere, leaving me sitting there with my brethren feeling rather confused.

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_May 15, 2024_

I cannot exactly pinpoint the moment my relationship with Lily became more than a passing acquaintance of mutual interest, or a partnership over a project. We seem to have struck something more profound. We spend much time together in the library these days – almost every single night, in fact.

Tonight I could tell something was bothering her, as she was distracted in her work on completing the chains for our Time Turners.

"Is there anything you wish to share, Lily?" I asked carefully. She glanced up at me and flushed, realising I'd noticed something was weighing on her mind, and she shook her head.

"Sorry. No. It's silly."

"What's wrong with silly?"

"Nothing. I still hang out with you, don't I?"

I shared her smile, and waited until she felt comfortable to speak.

"I want…" she finally said, biting her lower lip, "I want _more_, Lorcan. More than this life I'm expected to have. People always say they want to do 'something different', but in the end, they all do the same thing. They go to Hogwarts, do their OWLs and NEWTs, maybe travel for a year and 'discover' themselves, then they get married to their school sweetheart and get a job, earn money and pay taxes, then pop out some kids of their own to send to Hogwarts and the cycle repeats again…" She shook her head again. "It's fine for those who want it, but _I_ don't want it. I mean, I do want a family one day, but I don't want to stand still. Not yet. There's so much more to life than exams and an office job."

"I suppose that means you will not be accepting the Department of Mysteries' early job offer?" I asked wryly, and she gave me a sheepish grin.

"_That_ was supposed to be a secret."

"This is Hogwarts, Lily; not much remains a secret for long."

"Bloody ghosts, always gossiping," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "No, I'm not going to take a job with them because I wouldn't ever be allowed to use our Time Turner. I'd… suffocate, under them. But you – you understand what I mean, don't you, Lorcan? No-one else does. They all think it's a phase I'm going through, and that all of this –" Lily reached out to touch the delicate gold chain I was holding, her fingertips grazing the links. "– is something I'll grow out of."

We sat in silence again for a moment. Then she looked up at me and asked, "What do _you_ think?"

I think many things. I think that Lily's words and ambitions, and her outlook on life, make sense, from a certain point of view. I used to think that my schooling was one of the most important aspects of my life – indeed, at the beginning of this year all I was hoping to do was navigate my NEWTs without hassle – but as the months have gone by and my partnership with Lily has deepened… I find my outlook on life has altered.

Of course, our dialogue was a few hours ago, and I had not at that point collected my thoughts. So I took her hand and said, "I think… that they are quite incorrect. This is part of who you are, Lily, and as long as you remain certain of yourself and what you want, then what they think is irrelevant. I think you are the most remarkable young woman I have ever met, and it an honour and a privilege to work alongside you."

Lily stared at me, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted. I suspect if I'd touched her cheek, I'd have felt her skin to be quite warm. I resisted.

She eventually cleared her throat and stammered on some syllables before saying, "Lorcan, I – that is – I, uh, I could say the same about you. Except that you're – uh – obviously not a young woman."

"I have been called worse things."

She smirked. "Strapping young lad?"

"An apt description," I allowed, and she snorted. "Now – shall we continue our highly illegal work?"

"Dinner first, maybe," she suggested, and I complied. We packed away our highly illegal work and made our way down to dinner (passing without harm through the trenches of the Battle of Verdun, which was being led – appropriately – by Dominique and Louis Weasley). Alas, dinner plans were unfortunately altered, as the Great Hall was partially flooded due to the Battle of Jutland. Professor Robertson informed us that meals were being delivered to the Common Rooms instead.

Lily and I were momentarily separated by a group of rowboats that were supposed to represent the Royal Canadian Navy. I managed to avoid getting my robes wet; Lily was not so fortunate, and retaliated by capsizing an Australian battleship, inadvertently aligning herself with Germany.

I waited for her to escape the battle on the patch of dry land at the entrance.

"You are not participating in Professor Potter's enactment of the Great War?"

I am not usually one to be startled by others, but the Hogwarts ghosts to have a way of sneaking up on people. I jumped a little and turned to face the Bloody Baron, and my shoulder accidentally went through his arm. "It's generally called World War One these days, sir," I said.

The Bloody Baron observed me for a long moment, then nodded. "Indeed. Old habits die hard, Mister Scamander."

I glanced back at the boats and paddles. "Do you suppose I ought to participate?" I enquired, as I know that the thoughts and suggestions of the Hogwarts ghosts can be most wise.

"I daresay you'll see enough war in your own time without having to be part of a counterfeit one in your youth, Lorcan," the Bloody Baron murmured, then tilted his head towards me. "Good day."

He floated off, leaving me feeling rather confused – at which point Lily Luna approached me, now completely sopping wet, with a white flag gripped tightly in her left hand. "I'm going to _kill_ James," she said, and wiped some water off face with the sleeve of her also-wet robe.

"I regret to inform you that cannot, as you 'owe' him."

"From what?"

"The Great Hogwarts Cornish Pixie War of 2023."

"Then I can repay my debt by not committing fratricide."

"_For England!_" James shouted on the other side of the Hall, blissfully oblivious. Professor Longbottom, who was not as involved in the spirit of war as most other students had resigned themselves to be, visibly winced at this. He was looking slightly hysterical as he waded knee-deep in the water alongside James' boat.

"There is a perfectly good lake that you could have used, James!" he cried. "Outside! A entire, _really big_ _lake_. _You didn't have to flood the Great Hall!_"

"I didn't want to upset the Giant Squid," James said reasonably.

"_You didn't want to upset the Giant Sq_— actually you know what, I don't care." And then Professor Longbottom overturned James' boat, with James still in it, and sloshed away, muttering something about only being a temporary Headmaster.

Lily pinched her lips together, trying very hard to not laugh. "Shall we… go to the kitchens and get some dinner and ice cream?"

I offered my arm to her. (I happen to consider myself a gentleman.) "It would be my pleasure, Lily."

She smiled, and she took my arm. I became a little wet in the process, but we'd both dried by the time we had ice cream.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_Finally, on a more serious note: Samael Glyde. I've tried to ignore you but the fact remains that you are a creep and a slimeball and you make me shudder whenever I go near you. If the staff would care to proceed to the Room of Hidden Things, they will find a cache of necromantic equipment belonging to Glyde, including a set of Bells._

_I keep my promises and pay my debts._

_xoxo_

_GossipGhost_


	9. from the journal of lorcan scamander VII

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones**

nine

_from the not-so-private journal of Lorcan Scamander, continued_

_Entry by James Sirius Potter_

_May 16, 2024_

I snagged your journal from the Gryffindor Common Room when I went there to help get the students under control today. Sorry, Lorcan – I thought Lysander might be planning to deface it again. I'll make sure it gets back to you soon.

Shame that all this rubbish had to happen so close to exams. I always knew that Glyde kid was bad news, but I didn't think he'd be so stupid as to attempt necromancy here at Hogwarts – let alone experiment on a teacher. (And of all teachers, _Otterburn_. Like, what? Him? Really? Maybe because he's the DADA teacher?) If it wasn't for that GossipGhost this morning… no telling what Glyde could have done. I wasn't there for it, mind – I don't really know what happened other than what Neville told me. Apparently what happened is after reading the GG, Professor Robertson went straight to Neville. Teachers aren't supposed to pay attention to those stupid things, but this one was different – really serious. And since the Room of Requirement _hasn't_ been healing itself, Neville took it seriously and found Glyde trying to kill our DADA teacher.

'Cause, you know, necromancy. That shizz is dangerous.

I didn't see Glyde until later, being led out by two Aurors. He didn't look like a criminal. He looked like a very upset young boy who made a really shitty mistake and just realised he'll be spending the rest of his life paying for it. I felt a bit sorry for him. But not too sorry, because necromancy. He tried to kill Otterburn. I mean, he was going to bring him back afterwards, but that's not the point.

Oh, and get this, get this – my Uncle _Percy_ was the one to retrieve the Bells and revive Otterburn. _Percy Weasley_. I know he's an Unspeakable but I seriously thought all he did all day was do paperwork, since he's usually boring as hell whenever we see him – remember that time when you got cornered by him a few Christmases ago, Lorcan, and he was droning on about regulations and the like? I saw him come into the school when I was waiting around outside with the teachers. He didn't stop to say hello or anything – he just went into where Otterburn was, came back out with the Bells wrapped up, and left. Whatever he did, he brought Otterburn back to "life" and he seemed to be just fine. I'm guessing Percy took a statement? I don't know. It's just generally been a very confusing, very serious day.

"I'm surprised you resurrected me so quickly," Otterburn said to Neville when the teachers all went up to see him.

Neville shrugged. "Well, I need _someone_ to look after my greenhouses while I'm being the Headmaster."

It was a very heart-warming moment, but quickly spoiled when Neville remembered he'd have to hire a new DADA teacher, since he's unlikely to trust anyone other than Otterburn to be in his greenhouses.

"Now, to other matters," he said once we left Otterburn to recover. "James, I need you to take down your…" He struggled with himself a bit, probably looking for a word that wasn't rude. "Classes," he finished diplomatically.

"But I haven't done the Global Wizarding War yet!" I complained. Bit childish, I guess.

"_James._"

Neville can be _scary_ sometimes. I shut up right away and became serious. Neville sighed heavily, looking very tired, and reached out to grasp my shoulder. "James. I'm asking you to clear everything up by tomorrow, and keep it packed away until after the exams. After that… we'll see about you continuing your classes. I have the whole… necromancy situation to clean up after, and we need the school as restrained as it can be until it and the exams are over. You're a teacher here, and I need your support more than ever."

Fuck _yeah_, I'm a teacher here. I didn't say that, of course – the situation was very serious – but I showed my appreciation by nodding. "Of course, Headmaster."

He gave me a weak smile. "You can call me Neville, James."

Not sure how sincere he was, because I heard him sigh really heavily after I left and say to Professor Robertson, "See, _he's_ the reason we can't have nice things."

Er. Hugo's asking to write in here and read what I just wrote. I hope that's okay? I'm sure it is – he's written in it before (even if it was by accident. Seriously, how absent-minded that that kid get?) I'll leave him with instructions to give this back to you, Lorcan – I have to head off and clear up my battlegrounds. I might enlist Johannes' help.

Cheers.

* * *

_Entry by Hugo Weasley_

_May 16, 2024_

They wouldn't let me see Sam.

I didn't even know what happened until Mum came to see me in the Hufflepuff Common Room. She told me a censored version of what James wrote (like his wasn't censored enough). "Hugo, what Samael did was very serious and very dangerous," she said. "You'll probably get a visit from some Aurors soon to ask about Samael's activities this year, but I'll make sure you only see them with either myself or your father present."

"But – what about Sam? Is he gonna be okay?"

Mum looked at me sadly. "He'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about."

"There's nothing wrong with me!"

Mum went really quiet and said, "He tried to put the blame on you."

I don't believe her. Sam's done weird things this year and he was really creepy with Livia's letters the other year, but he wouldn't do that. I told her that, but she shook her head. "You're lucky that no-one believed it for a moment. I don't want you in contact with him. All right?"

"Yes, Mum," I said.

"I'm sorry, Hugo, but it's for the best."

I _hate_ this. It isn't fair. He just made a stupid mistake! "Can't you take his case?" I asked. "Can't you be his lawyer?"

Mum shook her head. "No, I can't. You're Sam's only friend at Hogwarts, and I'm your mother – they'd accuse me of a conflict of interest. But I can do my best to ensure that he is treated fairly. He's a child, after all. He won't get sent to Azkaban –"

"But they won't expel him, will they?"

"They mightn't have, in the past – but he might be sent instead to the Plymouth Magical School for Behavioural Rehabilitation."

"The school for delinquents?"

"Language, Hugo!" she ordered. "He'll be looked after there and he'll get to complete his schooling."

But I'll never see him again and I'm not allowed to write to him. I get that he did something really bad but he's still my _friend_. If I'd known what he was really up to, I'm sure I could have talked him out of it. I mean, yeah, he didn't listen to me earlier this year, but I'm sure I could have. And now GossipGhost went and got him expelled from Hogwarts by ratting him out like he was a criminal.

I'll find GossipGhost. After the exams, and after James clears up the last of his trenches and pretend-oceans in the Great Hall, which apparently is what he's going to do tonight. Good luck to him, I say – he's made a real mess of the place (although, surprisingly, the greenhouses remain untouched). Admittedly, James' classes have been pretty cool. I think I'm all set for my History of Magic exam.

I'll give this back to you now, Lorcan, I promise. But I might need it again later, after the exams – if that's okay? So I can hunt down GossipGhost once and for all. I've got a feeling there'll be some clues in here.

* * *

_Entry by Lysander Scamander_

_May 17, 2024_

My sympathies to Hugo. Also, I'm not Lorcan and I honestly have no idea how he mixed the two of us up, because I'm the one the ruggedly handsome one and Lorcan is the one with the questionable haircut and his nose in a book all the time. So I _should_ be feeling insulted, but I'll give him a pass this time because he looked real upset, poor kid. He shouldn't have been hanging out with that creep Glyde anyway. Necromancy, urgh. Lucky for him that Otterburn got better – if he'd died for real, Glyde would have had a Hearing and gotten a criminal record and everything.

And now for something completely different: well, that was stupid of me.

I mean, yeah, okay, I've done my fair share of stupid things – but you'd reckon that of all the things I've done this year, like jumping off the Astronomy Tower and diving into the Lake in the middle of winter and hang gliding, it would be one of the other things to land me in the Hospital Wing. But nooooo, it was sliding down a bannister that got me in here. Broke both my legs.

Dad will be so ashamed. At the _very_ least it should have been the hang gliding that got me.

And, of course, Madame White had no sympathy for me. "Serves you right, Lysander Scamander! Behaving like a complete galoot all year – it's a wonder you weren't in here earlier! Now drink this and stay silent, not a word out of you. You really should act more like your brother – he's far more sensible…"

I don't think she likes me very much.

Anyway, Lorcan, you and your vicious gossip has gotten way out of control. You call yourself my brother? You traitorous scum, you knew all about Rose rigging the bets and you didn't tell me. I lost _so much money_. So yeah, I did steal your diary to draw some more dicks in it (because you deserve it, you pretentious twat), but, IDK, I think writing is more cathartic and I _literally_ have nothing else to do while I'm stuck in this bed waiting for my legs to heal. Madame White won't let me have anything. Not even a chess set, or my study notes! She seems to think there'll be a way I can use them to defy death again. And you, you sorry excuse for a brother, why haven't you come along to give me chocolate? You're probably in the library with Lily again making an illegal Time Turner.

(Speaking of you and Lily – "intellectual" interest? Really? That's what we're calling it now?)

So, exams are in two days. I was hoping that because of my terrible, soul-shattering injuries, I'd be excused from them, but no such luck – all of my teachers have informed me that they expect my presence for the exams, and Madame White has assured me I'll have recovered by tomorrow morning. I've given up on studying because I reckon if I don't know it by now, then I never will, so what's the point in stressing out about it? I'll be fine – and even if I'm not, it's not like the NEWTs are the be-all-and-end-all. Right?

_Later_

…Rose just came to visit me.

Look, I read her entry – the one she wrote during the Easter break – so… I knew how she was feeling about me (or rather, how she _wasn't_ feeling about me) and she was… kind of right. Just a bit. I really like danger seeking. But not because it's, you know, _dangerous_ (okay, a bit) but because of the adventure. It's fun.

She came into the hospital wing and sat down next to me in the chair, and shook her head. "I knew you'd get yourself tossed in here sooner or later."

"Broke both my legs," I said, trying not to sound inappropriately proud. I must've failed, because Rose rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I know, and I also know that you haven't been able to get out of your exams."

"Should've broken my legs tomorrow instead," I lamented. Rose takes things so seriously, sometimes – she frowned in disapproval – so… yeah, I guess it's not that hard to believe that she's the same girl who bullied Scorpius into dating her so that she could win her May bet. Sly woman. Why _isn't_ she in Slytherin?

"You're lucky you didn't break anything else!"

I raised my eyebrows and said, "Anything else in _particular_?"

_Not_ my finest line. She kept on frowning, so I laughed awkwardly and said, "Right, okay, never saying that again."

"Much appreciated, Lysander."

"Um." I cleared my throat. I mean, if I could jump off the Astronomy Tower without hesitating, it really shouldn't have been hard to ask her out. "Rose. Do you… after the exams, would you like to go out with me?"

She stared and blinked.

"No," she said, and my heart shattered into millions of tiny pieces and I melted into a puddle of melodrama and angst.

Not really. But I swear that's what you sound like sometimes when you write, Lorcan.

No, I winced and said, "Ouch. Okay."

"Sorry, that was blunt."

"Just a bit."

Rose sighed and patted my arm. "Lysander, I asked you out a lot of times last year – and all this year, when you _could_ have been asking me out, you instead decided to act like that Muggle adventurer fellow – Grill Bear or whatever his name is."

"Bear Grylls," I corrected.

"You're not really in love with me – you just like having the excuse to throw yourself off buildings for the thrill. Am I right?"

Since when is Rose ever _wrong_? (Except for miscalculating Albus and Scorpius – but she got her way with that in the end.) I'll always love Rose Weasley a little bit. But I reckon… she is right. I love hang gliding and abseiling and getting myself into ridiculous situations more than I wanted to ask her out on a date.

I sighed. "Well, in that case – Rose Weasley. Would you like to accompany me hang gliding first thing tomorrow morning when I get out of here?"

She stared and blinked again. "Lysander, I _just said_ –"

"Not a date-thing. A friend-thing. I think you'd like it. C'mon, don't deny it – you think it's fun!"

"I think it's _ridiculous_. Not to mention, our NEWTs start in _two days_ –!"

"So, it'll take your mind off things!" I held out my hand for her. "Promise you won't regret it."

She looked at me very dubiously, then took my hand and finally said, "Tomorrow morning. But if you drop me, Lysander Scamander, _so help me_ you will regret it."

So that's a thing that is happening. I'd better not drop her, then.

* * *

_Entry __by Lorcan Scamander_

_May 19, 2024_

At least Lysander was prompt in his return of this journal to me. Normally he'd make me hunt for it, but he must be in an altruistic mood because of his reconnection with Rose Victoria. (His entry certainly explains why they were seen hang gliding together early this morning.) I have been doubting Rose's reciprocation of his "feelings" for quite some time – her entry, and his subsequent entry, confirmed this. But I am very happy for the both of them, in that they have reconciled.

As I have long since given up attempting to keep this journal private and away from eyes that are not my own, I of course give Hugo Martin my blessing to borrow it in the future if he thinks it will help him search for GossipGhost.

My personal matter on the expulsion of Samael Glyde is perhaps better kept personal, but I shall say this: I think the young boy needs help, and I regret that Hugo has been so deeply affected by the unfortunate turn of events. GossipGhost, whoever it may be, has been quiet since his or her last notice, perhaps realising the severity of the situation. I do wonder what it meant by its debt being repaid.

I suppose it is high time for me to get a decent night of rest before the Charms exam tomorrow morning. I find myself ill prepared – unusual, considering my immaculate record for the past seven years with regard to my exams – but I am surprisingly unconcerned. The work I have been doing outside of the class syllabi with Lily is – _[entry interrupted]_

_Later_

There has been a… rather spontaneous change of plan. I am waiting now in the Gryffindor Common Room, long after curfew, for Lily to change and equip herself with the necessary instruments.

A brief recount, while I wait:

I was in the library, as usual, not long after dinner. The general atmosphere of the restructured Great Hall (still a little damp, but no longer flooded) was rather sombre, in part due to the expulsion of Samael Glyde and the impending examinations. I found it rather depressing; Albus, Scorpius, Rose, and Lysander concurred. They all went off in their respective ways – Albus and Scorpius to… somewhere I'm not entirely sure I wish to know, and Rose and Lysander to the Gryffindor Common Room to either abseil or study. I retired to the library, as I noticed Lily was nowhere in sight and I thought she might be there.

As it transpired, I was incorrect, but only for about twenty minutes. She located me quickly at our usual spot, slightly breathless with excitement and lugging with her a large bag.

"Um – Lorcan?"

"Good evening, Lily," I said, closing my books. I noted her demeanour. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, everything's great! Um." She bit her lower lip. "Would you consider breaking into the Ministry of Magic with me to steal some hourglasses for our Time Turners?"

"I –" I blinked. "Pardon?"

Lily grabbed my hand. "Tonight. After curfew. Would you consider coming with me to break into the Department of Mysteries to steal the hourglasses?"

I had in fact heard her the first time, yet I was just as befuddled the second time – but I apparently said "Yes", because before I knew it she'd dragged me up to the Gryffindor Tower and told me to wait in the Common Room.

It all happened rather quickly.

"Right, so – here's your bag." She passed the bag she'd been holding over to me, and I noted its lightness despite the size. "It has everything you might need in it for a trip to the past or the future." Lily paused, then added, "Or, you know, if we become fugitives."

"It always pays to be prepared."

She winked. "We'll have to finish the Time Turners at the Ministry. I've got the sand up in my room – so once we're in the Department of Mysteries, we fit our Time Turners with the hourglasses and run right back to Hogwarts."

"We're coming back here?"

"I'm not missing breakfast before we go on the run from the law," she said reasonably.

Fair enough.

Before she went up the stairs to her dormitory, I grasped her hand. "There will be no coming back from this, Lily."

She grinned. "I know. Isn't it exciting?"

It is.

I suspect wherever I go after this night – be it in the past or future, or in the present in Azkaban (although I sincerely hope not the latter) – I will not immediately require this unfaithful journal. It contains too many of Lily's and my notes about our work, dangerous things that if they end up in the wrong hands in the wrong time the repercussions could be quite terrible. And considering how eagerly my journal strays… it is safest if this journal remains in the subjective present of 2024, with someone I trust.

Lysander – you may draw as many phalluses in these pages as you desire. But _do_ take care of it, won't you? I'll leave it on the table here – someone will recognise it, no doubt, and pass it along to you. Let Hugo read it, when he requires it. I wish him the best of luck. And I wish you all the best for your exams, Lysander. (Normally I'd advise you to "break a leg", but I believe you've already broken both.) This isn't goodbye – just a farewell for now. You will probably see me at breakfast, but if not then, then hopefully in the near future.

So now I wait and prepare, and when Lily comes down… we are going to break into the Department of Mysteries.

_Addendum_

I'm afraid I've come to realise something most profound. I said at the beginning of the school year that I should like to ask Lily out, but I was incorrect when I wrote that my interest in her was not romantic, but intellectual.

It is both, and more. I am most ardently in love with Lily Potter and have been for quite some time, and I cannot contemplate a life where I am not by her side.


	10. from the journal of lysander scamander

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

We're almost at the end, dear readers! Just one chapter left. I'd like to take a moment here to thank each and every single person who took the time to review. I'm so glad that you've been enjoying this story – and even more pleased if you've made it this far! And, as always, a massive thank-you to my enabler/muse/partner-in-crime and friend, **Jenn**, for her _incredible_ work in giving voice to the enigmatic GossipGhost. None of this would have been possible without you. You've been wonderful.

* * *

**Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones**

ten

_from the journal of Lysander Scamander [previously property of Lorcan Scamander], concluded_

_Entry __by Lysander Scamander_

_May 20, 2024_

Holy shit, Lorcan.

_Later_

_Holy shit, Lorcan._

_Later again_

No, I mean it. I have _no idea_ what is going on in this school anymore. I'm calm enough now to recount, I think, but _still_…

_Later again_

I suppose this is my pretentious diary now, since Lorcan left it to me and all. As a parting gift. Because, oh yeah, he and Lily blew off school and are on the run from the Ministry of Magic and could literally be anywhere in history right now. And you know what? Since it's my pretentious diary now, I'm going to recount because I seriously have trouble wrapping my head around all of this.

(First exam went well, but that's really beside the point.)

I swear it was a normal morning. Normal-ish anyway, this being Hogwarts and all. It was strange not seeing the barricades everywhere anymore (I have no doubt they'll be back, though) and I went to the Common Room to wait for Rose to go to breakfast. Terrence came down with me, reciting Transfiguration answers. I may or may not have been contemplating how I could copy off him during the test.

"Ease up, Terrence," I said, elbowing him, and he scowled.

"Just because you've got a career ahead of you as the next world-famous daredevil doesn't mean the rest of us do," he snapped, and stomped off, startling Rose who was coming down the stairs from the Girl's Dorm into the Common Room. Then again, _anything_ would have startled her at that point – I don't think she slept at all last night. Too busy hyperventilating about the NEWTs.

"Morning," I said, and she muttered a vague "Hello" back, looking like she was ready to throw up. I dunno why she was so stressed about not passing her exams, 'cause even if she miraculously flunks out of everything she made a mint from the Albus/Scorpius thing. She's set for the next year, at _least_. But I didn't say that, so I bumped her shoulder instead. "Hey. Rose."

"What?"

"Wanna take out the hang glider before the exams start?"

"No, I want to study before the exams start!"

I poked her shoulder again. "It'll make you feel better…"

She cracked a smile. "You know what'll also make me feel better?"

"What's that?"

She punched my arm.

"Ow!"

"There, much better. Now come and sit with me while I study before breakfast."

So I sat with her at one of the tables and she pulled out all of her books, but then she glanced down and saw this diary lying there all innocent-like.

"Isn't that Lorcan's diary?" she asked.

"Huh," I said. "I don't remember stealing it yesterday."

I picked it up but didn't open it, because I thought that all I'd find in it were more pretentious descriptions of his 'intellectual admiration' for Lily. (And I almost believed it, too, until he told us he was hetero! All this time and I had no idea. My own _brother_. It's like I don't even know the guy.)

"Should I leave it in the Whomping Willow this time?" I asked Rose. She rolled her eyes at me and tried to snatch it out of my hands. I held it over her head. "C'mon, please? End of school and all that, wrap up it all up with a bang."

"And how would Lorcan get it back, exactly?"

"Magic?"

"Don't be smart, Lysander, it doesn't suit you."

Yep, still adore that woman. I put the diary in my bag instead, with every intention to just return it to Lorcan because I hadn't read that last entry by him at the time.

(_Holy shit, Lorcan._)

"You haven't seen Lily this morning, have you?" Rose asked on the way down to breakfast. "I didn't see her in the dorm. I wanted to wish her luck for her exams."

"You've wished her luck every other year and she always ends up flunking. I think you're jinxing her."

Rose didn't find it as funny as I did, but whatever. After she decided she'd studied as much as she could in that hour (I mostly played cards by myself, since I figure if I don't know the work by now then I'm never gonna know it, so why bother studying?) we decided to go get breakfast. Things have been really sober in Hogwarts since GossipGhost outed Glyde and since James took down his barricades and trenches, and it was even worse this morning because of the exams. We were almost at the Great Hall when Albus and Scorpius caught up to us.

"Hey! Have you guys seen Lorcan?"

"Nope, but I did find his diary in Gryffindor!" I said proudly.

"It's the crown achievement of his years at Hogwarts," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "No, I haven't seen him. Lorcan was probably up all night studying time travel with Lily in the library. Their obsession has gotten completely out of hand…"

"Speak of the devil," Scorpius said, and Lorcan and Lily themselves jogged up to us in the clothes they were wearing yesterday, looking exhausted and extremely shifty. Well, Lily was – Lorcan was looking as vacantly amused at everything around him as he usually did.

"Oh, hey! Good morning!" Lily said, looking and sounding very breathless. "Lovely day."

Not at all suspicious.

Rose narrowed her eyes. "Lily…"

"Yes?"

"What have you done?" Rose looked closer. "And why have you got a bag with you?"

"Well, you know," Lily said lightly, "packed clothes, food, potions. The usual."

"Equipped with all the necessary items for a historically engaging trip or to be on the run as fugitives," Lorcan supplied helpfully. "Lily is most organised."

"Er," Scorpius said, the same time Rose said, "What?"

"Lily is most organised," Lorcan repeated.

"Not that!" Rose exclaimed. "Lorcan, you – what did you and Lily _do_?"

"Something quite illegal. Apologies, Rose Victoria," Lorcan said. I was a bit too stunned to say anything, and I think Albus and Scorpius were playing catch-up as well. Rose focused on the only thing that made sense to her:

"You're not seriously considering skipping your exams!"

"I assure you, it was entirely spontaneous."

"That is not reassuring! Lily is the one I expected that sort of behaviour from, but not from you, Lorcan!"

"Perhaps I am more impressionable than any of us suspected," Lorcan said dryly. Snarky bastard. I've never been prouder to call him my brother. (Or shocked, because _holy shit_.) He turned back to face Lily, away from Rose's scandalised expression, and checked his pocket watch. I didn't even know he _had_ a pocket watch, but in hindsight I really should have been wondering why he never had one on him before. He's just that kind of person. So anyway, he checked it then tucked it away again, and cleared his throat.

"At any rate, I estimate we have one and a half minutes before the Ministry arrives to take us into custody," he said mildly, and everyone around him and Lily did this second-take blanch.

"Wait, what?" Albus finally said, but Lily and Lorcan ignored him.

Lily bit her lower lip, lifted a Time Turner – and honest-to-Merlin actual completed Time Turner (they _fucking did it_) – around Lorcan's neck, then another one around her own, and said, "In that case, Lorcan – I, uh, I have something to tell you."

Lorcan waited for her to speak. She bit her lip again, bounced on her toes, and blurted out, "I love you."

You know, I reckon she's the _only person_ capable of rendering my brother speechless? He gaped at her a bit, stumbled over some noises that vaguely resembled human speech, and managed to get out: "Quite right, too."

Not the most romantic of things to say, but Lily seemed to find it amusing.

"And I suppose…" Lorcan continued, "if it's my first chance to say it… Lily Potter –"

I guess Lorcan was going to say _I love you_, but none of us got the chance to hear it because Lily yanked on his tie, closed the gap between them, and kissed him.

You know. As you do.

They didn't get much of a chance to snog. Probably a good thing in the long run, because Albus looked ready to blow a fuse at Lorcan snogging his younger sister. No, instead, Head Auror Harry Potter himself and a group of Aurors burst through the Entrance Hall doors, making Lily and Lorcan jump apart.

"Official Auror business, stand aside," Mr Potter said, pushing through the crowd. He didn't even stop to talk to Professor Longbottom, who started to protest ("What's going on? Harry!") and held up a hand to halt his Aurors behind him as he stood before Lily and Lorcan.

"Put that down!" Mr Potter snapped, pushing down an eager Auror's wand next to him. "Lily –"

"Dad?"

He really stared at her and she stared back – looking all giddy and dangerous. Lorcan's hands were still on her waist (brave man), holding her tightly – and Mr Potter said, "There's no turning back from this, Lily."

I'm not really sure what passed between him and Lily just at that moment. I've never had much to do with Lily, see, or Mr Potter. But Lily nodded and said, "I know."

He sighed. "I love you, Lils."

"You too, Dad."

Mr Potter straightened his shoulders and drew up his wand. "Lily Potter and Lorcan Scamander," he said, "you are both under arrest for the breaking and entering of the Department of Mysteries and illegal obtainment of classified objects. Do not attempt to resist arrest."

'Cause, you know, that sort of stuff happens _all_ the time at Hogwarts.

The Aurors started to close in on them – they'd got a large audience by this stage, students and ghosts and teachers and examiners all in deathly silence gathered around to watch the drama – and Lily faced Lorcan, gripping her Time Turner.

"God I hope this works," Lily breathed. Lorcan cupped her cheek.

"I trust you."

They flipped their Time Turners together, and vanished.

(_HOLY SHIT, LORCAN_.)

"Well, great," Scorpius said. "_Now_ how are we going to get into the Ravenclaw Common Room?"

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_- Spotted: Signs of a "stuggle" in Greenhouse Three_

_- Spotted: S granting B a shoulder to cry on – is all forgiven?_

_- Spotted: Two lovebirds playing tourist. But the question isn't so much where, as _when_?_

_- Spotted: Rather more Firewhiskey than we're comfortable admitting. The acting Head has our _deepest_ sympathies._

_- Spotted: A remorseless redhead, out for blood. Or should that be ectoplasm? Perhaps it's finally time._

* * *

_Entry by Hugo Weasley_

_June 5, 2024_

Exams are over. It's been a crazy few weeks – everyone's still talking about Lily and Lorcan. I have trouble believing it, really. I mean, yeah, _Lily_ I can understand, but Lorcan? Wow. That was kind of impressive.

Anyway. I've borrowed Lorcan's diary – or is it Lysander's now? – to see if I can work out who GossipGhost is. Lorcan's entries are really detailed, so… even if he didn't know who GG is, I'm sure there'll be some hints.

_Later_

Okay. I think I know who it is.

_Later again_

Wow.

Okay.

Um. I was right about my suspicions. To be honest, I wasn't really expecting that, but… wow.

After I wrote that last entry I started by taking a long detour around the school, retracing the places GG had been to, judging by the last half-hearted notice on the board. Everyone was mostly milling around the school now that exams were over, so it was hard to know where to start. I started in the dungeons, then went to the Great Hall, then through the entrance hall, using my stethoscope to listen and locate my target to follow them. I lost the trail, 'cause everyone was having lunch, so I went down to the grounds and past the Herbology greenhouses. I'm not sure what was going on down there, but I heard Neville talking: "Look, I'm not judging you two or anything, but _oh my god!_"

And finally I picked up the trail again and followed it until I ended up on the second floor in an unused classroom.

I closed the door behind me. "You," I said.

The Bloody Baron regarded me with eerie coolness. "Good evening, Hugo Weasley."

"Baron," I said. "I know it's you. You're GossipGhost."

He bowed his head. "I expected you to discover my identity sooner or later," he intoned. "After all, Hufflepuffs have always been particularly good finders."

I clearly wasn't _that_ good, since it took me the whole year to find him, but I appreciated the sentiment. But not too much, because I was still angry at him. I frowned at him and said, "Why did you do that to Sam? Why did you get him kicked out of Hogwarts? He was in Slytherin! One of your own!"

"Samael Glyde carried with him the stench of death. He now has a chance to lead a less troubled life. It is up to him to decide which path he will walk."

"That wasn't your choice to make!"

"Not my choice, no," the Baron agreed, and didn't say anything else. I crossed my arms.

"You know I'll tell people that you're GossipGhost," I warned him. He didn't seem concerned.

"I rather suspected you would."

"Right. Well, then."

"Mister Glyde was no friend of yours, Hugo Weasley. You'll do well to remember that." He bowed his head at me again. "Adieu."

* * *

_Entry by Lysander Scamander_

_June 7, 2024_

The Bloody Baron? _The Bloody freaking Baron?_ He's GossipGhost?!

_I can't even with this school anymore._

* * *

_Entry by Lysander Scamander_

_June 16, 2024_

Well, the term is over. That's it. No more Hogwarts.

To be honest, I… really don't know what to be feeling. I thought I'd be happy to get out of here and seize the chance to go exploring, or skydiving, or whatever. And I mean, I am, but I'm also kind of… sad. I'm gonna miss Hogwarts. I'm going to miss all of my friends – we're friends anyway, but it'll be a bit different now – and I'll miss the GossipGhosts (damn shame the Bloody Baron isn't going to keep it up), and I'm especially going to miss James' barricades. (He's determined to do it all again next year with Johannes as his teaching assistant, though – Professor Longbottom's going spare. He doesn't seem to care that everyone in fourth year and above sat for the History of Magic NEWT just because they could, and passed.)

But Hogwarts hasn't been the same since Lorcan (and Lily) left. _This_ isn't the same. This is still his journal and I really can't do justice to his voice. Actually, I haven't heard from him at all – I hope he's okay. I want to know what they _did_ in the Department of Mysteries. He'd better freakin' tell me when he writes or visits, otherwise I'm flushing that Time Turner of his down the toilet.

Anyway. I'm back home now and I should start packing – I'm going on a camping/hiking trip with Rose in a couple of days. Platform 9 ¾ is usually a really awesome part of the year for all of us, but today it was sober, much like the last few weeks of school. There wasn't all that much to say to Rose and Al and Scorpius. Al and Score are going to go off and do… whatever it is they do when they're together. I dunno how long their thing will last but they seem happy. Al's probably going to do something with Potions (surprise, surprise) and Scorpius wants to work for curse breakers or something-or-other with the Ministry.

I think Ginny's disappointed none of her children turned out to be Quidditch pros like her. She said hi to me before everyone went off their own ways and told me to keep up my flying, since "none of my kids could be bothered to sit on a broom for more than ten minutes at a time – I'm starting to think they were switched at birth."

Livia and Hugo were on the side talking together, as usual. No surprise there. Also no surprise is that Mr Malfoy and Mr Weasley have already put in their bets for them:

"Twenty galleons on 2026," Mr Weasley said (after Hermione was out of earshot).

"Thirty on 2027," Mr Malfoy insisted.

Then – get this – Mr Potter said, "Second week of February, 2031. Fifty galleons."

Mr Malfoy and Mr Weasley stared at him and Mr Potter shrugged. Well, I know who's going to lose that bet.

Rose thinks it's ridiculous and scoffed at it all, but I'm suspicious of her now – for all I know, she's probably put in a fair amount of money on Hugo and Livia already. Sly woman. I'm convinced the Sorting Hat put her in Gryffindor because it assumed all Weasleys belonged in Gryffindor and didn't realise until after it Sorted her that she should've been in Slytherin.

I'm going to stick ten galleons in for 2026 – I _have_ learned my lesson about betting pools this year.

(…I'm so fucking broke.)

Not much else to say, really. I've never been one for the big descriptions, like Lorcan was. Shame – he'd have done a much better job at this. (Or waxed poetic about Lily's ingeniousness and the brilliance of her mind for a couple of paragraphs.)

Before we all parted ways, I did see Mr Potter pull Scorpius to the side. They were too far away from anyone else to hear what they were saying, but Mr Potter was looking very Serious and Concerned and Scorpius was frowning, so I guess it was the obligatory "Don't hurt my son" speech.

And… that's it. It's been a kind of strange year.

_Later_

I hope Lorcan writes soon.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_It's finally time __–_ the end of another term, another year is upon us, and hasn't it been fun! Such a delicious crop of scandals sprung up as Hogwarts played host to its biggest resdesign since that time with old Voldie in '98. Good times, good times...

_We've had it all this year – catfights, sordid affairs, the first bloom of Young Love, and some conduct _seriously_ unbecoming of a staff member. In fact, if it wasn't for dear little Sammy it would have been a perfect year!_

_But he just had to go and spoil all the fun. Now, try to hold back your tears, my darlings, as with great regret I announce that I am hanging up my quill. It's been so much fun playing "ghostwriter", but Higher Management has spoken, and besides – I'm just too _fabulous_ to be contained!_

_As a final treat for you all before I resume my regularly scheduled mayhem, it is my honour to present what you've all been salivating for. No, not the exclusive photos of a certain Greenhouse tryst – you don't get that for free... _

_Ladies and gentlemen, for the the first and only time: the brains, the mastermind, in his own words at last: GossipGhost speaks._

_You know you love me,_

_Peevesy_

* * *

_Students and staff of Hogwarts,_

_In light of recent events, not least the unfortunate arrest of Mr Samael Glyde, I feel that it is finally time to end this. It is not always easy to sit powerlessly in the background while momentuous events take place before you. It can be even harder when those events tend more toward the "trivial" end of the scale. Having spent centuries playing the unwilling audience to human dramatics, I must admit that my motives in writing these missives were... less than pure. _

_I never intended to directly harm anyone, and I hope that the good I have done manages to outweigh the bad. If nothing else, it gives me no small pleasure to know that I have finally managed to discharge a debt owed to a very old and dear friend._

_I wish you all the very best of luck in the future... and for some of you, in the past._

_ xoxo_

_The Bloody Baron, aka_  
_"GossipGhost"_


	11. postscript

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones**

eleven

_correspondence, postscript_

_August 26, 2024_

Dear Lysander,

My sincerest apologies that I did not contact you sooner – I did receive your letter that you sent in July, but I'm afraid Lily and I are still working out how to control where in time we "land", so to speak. I meant to return to the subjective present, however we overshot our expected arrival by a month, which means we will have to make up that month up in another time period to ensure we remain consistent with our natural timeline.

I have missed you and our friends and family dearly. I am also penning letters to mother and father, and to Albus and Scorpius, to inform them of my general health and travels. It has been most invigorating, Lysander – you won't believe the places Lily and I have been to and what we have seen in our short time away! Thus far we believe we can only travel back as far as 1960, and only as far forward as 2060. Lily is, naturally, wanting to continue her experiments and expand the field – and I am, as always, her enabler. I am more than content to explore the century at our fingertips, but I am not one to stifle her ingenuity. Speaking of Lily, she is doing very well and she thanks you for asking – and she also would like to know how Rose is enjoying your own adventurous travels.

What a delight to hear about Albus' promising career start! I always suspected his talents would take him to the field of Potions. I shall have to congratulate him on his internship in my letter to him.

Yes, I rather thought the Ministry would still have Lily and myself charged for robbing the Department of Mysteries. It is of little consequence to me (in fact, rather to father's delight and mother's pleasantly surprised indifference) and Lily is able to avoid the authorities deftly enough. It is fortunate that Mr Potter doesn't consider himself to be on work hours when he is at home with Ginevra, which is where we are presently stationed for a few days.

You asked about what happened at the Ministry, but I feel it would be better to tell you in person. Lily is recording the event in her own new journal, one gifted to her just recently by Mr Potter, down to the finest detail. It is times like this I wish I still had my journal, but I trust you are keeping it (and my equations) safe. With luck, it will not stray from your hand as frequently as it strayed from mine.

I will visit you sometime, Lysander – I have sorely missed you. I will find a way to communicate with you whilst not in the subjective present, possibly through a mailing service, but until then Lily and I must continue to investigate the parameters of our field.

My best wishes to you, and my congratulations on your NEWT results – I knew you would do very well. And your Outstanding grade in History of Magic comes as no surprise, even though I do not recall you being enrolled in the class. Did you merely take the exam because you could? No doubt James is very pleased with himself – I hear from Hugo Martin that he has been celebrating his success by declaring war on Hogwarts so that he can bring his barricades back indoors for the winter…

Farewell for now, but I hope to see you or hear from you soon.

With love, your brother,

Lorcan

PS: The Bloody Baron? Really?

**the end**

* * *

Stick around for the rest of the journals & ice cream series! You can check out my profile page for more information on some of the stories, but I'm putting the full list of the titles here anyway:

1. Draco Malfoy and the Trials of Single Parenthood **[complete]  
**2. Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating **[complete]  
**3. Ronald Weasley and the Midlife Crises **[complete]  
**4. Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones **[complete]**  
5. The Invention of Hugo Weasley **[in progress]**  
6. We Need To Talk About Lily  
7. The Vanishing Act of Hadrian Malfoy  
8. The Time Traveller's Husband

Yes, titles 5 to 8 are all bad puns on best-selling published books. _Don't judge me_.


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